Raised
by EleanoRambaldi
Summary: When Rachel claimed Quinn as her slave she hoped that would be their happy ending. She didn't knew that Quinn's untamed nature and a slave rebellion would have changed their lives forever WARNINGS: Claimed sequel, BDSM, quinn!sub and faberry
1. Revenge

**This is Claimed sequel and I highly raccomand you to read it before starting this story. **

**Raised comes with some general WARNINGS (but I you've read Claimed you probably don't need them): this is a dystopic universe where master/slave relationships are the norm (and so is everything that goes with that kind of relationship); it's faberry centered with some brittana and... another pairing coming up soon.**

**Last time we saw Rachel and Quinn they were happy-ish and together, now we find them in a strong and painful scene. It's a scene that takes place about halfway through the plot, and from the second chapter on you will read about how we get to this point. I know, I know, it seems I didn't learn anything from your comments on Claimed but... I did. This time I won't drag you along with me for 10 chapters, this time the real dynamics between Rachel and Quinn in their new relationship will start to emerge soon. How about chapter 3? Does it seem fair? ****Anyway, as**** usual all your comments are really appreciated! And before we start let me thank Dee who's doing an incredible job being my beta reader!**

**DISCLAIMER: Glee is mine because I'm actually Ryan Murphy and this is the Faberry Heaven I was talking about on twitter. Since I couldn't do it on Fox, I did it here! Also: I own two unicorns and a hippogriff.**

* * *

_[ABOUT TWO MONTHS AFTER THE CLAIMING]_

How many people were there around them? One hundred? More? All looking at her, with those eager, rat-like eyes, feasting on her pain. She couldn't stand their looks, the way they waited for her to break but, most of all, she couldn't stand her own weakness. When did she become so fragile she wasn't able to face those gazes? When did the Infamous Quinn Fabray get so soft?

The whip hit her lower back. She arched forward biting her lip and muffling sounds of pain. Her wrists were tied above her head to a ring on a wooden pole. She was wearing just a slip and the ring she put on the day Rachel claimed her.

"Five!" A male voice called from behind her back.

Only five? Shit. What was going on with her? She used to take more than that and now she couldn't even stand a simple whipping? That was insane, she just needed to...

"Six."

Fuck! How could she manage to stand it before? What was her trick? How could she...

"Seven."

Quinn moaned, closing her eyes. She used to have a place to where she could run away from reality, her illogical, safe harbor, where flowers sang with contralto's voices, and she could move the sky up and down just inhaling or exhaling air.

"Eight."

This time a soft sound escaped her lips as she grasped on the rope tying her to the pole. She wanted so desperately to go back to that place, where nothing could hurt her, but it seemed too long since the last time she went there, and she sort of lost the way.

"Nine!"

Her foot slipped but she clung to the rope. She knew her skin was broken, she could feel tiny streams of blood running down her back, just like when Raphael used to whip her. Except this time Raphael wasn't the one holding the whip, he was standing in front of her, arms crossed in front of his big muscular chest and a slave kneeling at his feet. This time the one holding the whip was Rachel Berry.

"Ten!"

Quinn's legs failed her, making her fall down, hanging just from her wrists. Raphael was looking at her. She could feel his gaze on her and she bet that if looks could kill she would be a corpse for some time now.

"Eleven!"

Nine more to go. She just needed to hold on a little long...

"Twelve!"

SHIT! Quinn squeezed her eyes shut but a tear escaped and ran down her cheek. Rachel was going too fast, she couldn't even breathe between the blows.

"Thirteen."

Quinn raised her head enough to look at Raphael who stared back at her. He didn't look so confident anymore, he was biting his upper lip, narrowing the eyes, unsatisfied by how the punishment was going. If Quinn had the strength she would have smiled at him and his broken dreams of revenge.

"Fourteen."

The whip hit her while she was trying to get on her feet again and, as she fell back down, she pulled harshly on her shoulder. That was it, she was not going to try again, not while the whipping continued restlessly.

"Fifteen."

The whip reached her side and Quinn yelped burying the face into her arm. Just one second, one second to just breathe, God, could she have one second?

"Sixteen."

She had to bite her lip to keep from shouting. She knew Raphael was watching and the only thing keeping her from passing out, in that moment, was knowing he was hating her for taking it without a sound.

"Seventeen."

Her lip started bleeding as she sank her teeth in it, breaking the tender skin. She tasted the iron flavor of blood in her mouth, silently counting down to the end of her punishment.

"Eighteen."

It hit her on her shoulders. Her head was leaning on the pole, by then, and she was breathing heavily trying to keep control. In the crowd Brittany had turned around to avoid seeing the whipping a few lashes before, and Santana was hugging her, fighting hard to keep her own tears at bay.

"Nineteen."

With her eyes tightly shut Quinn couldn't see as Raphael's jaw tightened for the last blow that was going to fall on her. His lips were pressed together in a thin, white line: the night didn't turn out the way it was supposed to.

He invited a lot of people to his home to assist the punishment, to assist what was supposedly his triumph and a great moment, but as soon as Rachel Berry and her slave walked into his home he knew something was wrong.

The last time that cheeky blonde was in his house she had the decency to look scared, but that evening, she was just distant. He didn't like that. What fun could he have if she wasn't scared? But things were only to get worse for him as he walked them into the lounge for the punishment and he moved to get Quinn to her place: tied to the pole.

"Don't touch her!" Rachel stopped him before he could even grab Quinn's wrist.

"Excuse me?"

"I said: don't touch my slave."

He smiled incredulous. "How am I supposed to punish her if I can't touch her?"

"I said she was going to be punished, I never said it was going to be by you."

The crowd was watching silently: it was never a good idea to step in while two dominants were arguing, especially if those dominants were Raphael Shinezar and Rachel Berry.

"That's ridiculous, I'm the offended and I demand satisfaction."

"And you shall have it." Rachel answered. "Have a seat and watch, but do not ever, ever, try to lay a finger on my slave."

Rachel tried to walk past him but he grabbed her arm.

Let go of me right now or you'll regret it, Raphael." She hissed.

"I'm not going to stand here letting you and your dirty little slave play me for a fool."

"The law demands the slave to be publicly punished" Santana stepped out of the crowd talking out loud. The whole crowd turned to her and Rachel took the chance to free herself and walk towards the pole with Quinn "it doesn't say it must be at the hands of the offended."

It was customary for the offended to be the one to punish the slave who wronged him and everybody, including Raphael, had expected him to be the one to raise the whip on Quinn. Except that, being Rachel the slave's owner, she was the only one that had the ultimate power to decide how the punishment had to be carried out.

Raphael's eyes darted through the crowd, looking for somebody, anybody, that would support his request to be on the right side of the whip, but all those people just stared back, stunned, just like him, at how things turned out. When he turned around towards the center of the room he saw that Rachel already tied Quinn to the pole and she was ready to begin. The first crack of the whip came just seconds after that.

* * *

"Twenty." The man counted the last blow.

Rachel rolled up the whip and walked towards Quinn.

She thought it would have been easier, given the fact she was an actress, but keeping her composure during the whipping took more than she thought.

Rachel approached Quinn from the front. Quinn's head was bent down, her blonde, short hair, covering her face, her breathing shallow. She called her name once, softly. She didn't want to touch her before Quinn knew it was her and the whipping was over, but Quinn didn't seem to hear her.

"Quinn?" She called again, and this time Quinn's head rose, slowly. Rachel cupped her face, wiping away one tear.

"Good girl." She rewarded Quinn with a quick smile. "I need you to do one last thing, Quinn. You have to leave this room on your feet, ok?" Their bodies were so close that Rachel could just whisper into Quinn's ear. She began running a hand over her stretched arms, up to the ligature marks and down to her shoulder a few times, to shift Quinn's attention away from her tortured back and, at the same time, wake up her numb arms. "Can you do that? Can you stand?" Quinn grunted back something Rachel didn't understand. But she did see Quinn's legs move as she tried to lift herself up enough so that her body didn't lay limpness, hanging from the pole just from the rope. Quinn failed her first feeble attempt to stand, but Rachel wanted to give her a second chance before helping her. It was really important, at this point, that Quinn could do it on her own. She knew her girlfriend had made quite an impression on the crowd taking the whipping, and she knew Raphael was boiling with rage and anger, his need for revenge gone unfulfilled.

On her second attempt Quinn managed to stand. She was swaying but, still, on her own two feet.

"Very good, Quinn. Now I'm going to take you off this pole. I'll hold you by your waist but you need to stand on your own, ok?" Another grunt was her only answer.

Rachel took Quinn's wrist off the rope and her arm fell to her side as if it was lifeless, looped around Rachel's neck. For a moment Quinn slipped, almost falling, but she drew on her last energy to stand and, when Rachel freed her other wrist, Quinn steadied herself against the pole to be able to stand upright.

"Very good." Rachel moved on Quinn's side, holding her by the wrist, trying to avoid the spots where the whip hit her. "Let's go home now."

They walked through the crowd as the people parted to let them pass. The infamous Quinn Fabray, once again, proved that she was truly the Untamed Painslut. She stood by her name and took the whipping going all through the pain and beyond. She didn't flinch, she didn't scream or try to avoid the blows, but most surprisingly, she didn't defy Rachel as they all expected her to. They thought they were going to see that famous look on her face as she challenged the dominants, instead they witnessed something very different. It was stunning, for most of them, seeing the kind of bond Rachel and Quinn shared. Most of them knew Quinn from before, many had seen her during one or more of her claims, and they all were well aware of a quite different attitude from her. She didn't seem the same person anymore, and neither did Rachel. Something happened to those two and you had to be blind not to see the way they were bonded.

As they were walking past the last people in the crowd Raphael stepped into their way.

"Move." Rachel simply said, not even raising her head to look at him, one hand firmly placed on Quinn's hip and the other one holding the arm around her neck.

"I'm not satisfied. This hardly makes up for how your slave has offended me."

Rachel looked up. "I don't care. She had to be punished and she was; everything else is just your problem, not mine. Now step out of my way."

Raphael swallowed, clenching his fists, fighting the urge to punch that stupid woman. Of course those two found each other, they were just the same, defiant, disrespectful useless bitches!

"Raphael." A man walked up to him, whispering something to his ear. It seemed to relax him a little and, as he stepped aside, he gave Rachel a fake smile that scared her more than anything.

They walked out of the house and, after a few moments, they heard hurried steps following them. Rachel handled Quinn over into Brittany's arms as she opened the car and the four of them got in to drive back home.

They carefully placed Quinn on the backseat, on Brittany's lap, and for the whole drive Britt held her tightly, whispering soothing words in Quinn's ear as Santana kept shooting evil glances at Rachel whenever she didn't avoid a bump in the road or hit the brakes too hard.

In about 15 minutes they were home.

Brittany lifted Quinn up and brought her to the bedroom she shared with Rachel, carefully placing her on the bed. Quinn moaned in discomfort, keeping her eyes closed. She felt feverish and wanted nothing more than to sleep and stop feeling the throbbing on her back.

Britt gently rolled her on her belly and, holding her hand, she brushed away the hair from Quinn's face. Santana was gazing at them from the door frame, standing next to Rachel. The brunette hesitatied. All the confidence she showed before, at Raphael's house, was gone.

"You know what to do, right?" Santana asked her, but Rachel stared blankly back. The Latina sighed, realizing for the first time that, with the claiming, her role drastically changed: before, she was only Quinn's emergency call, but now she had to take care of Rachel too. "Clean her wounds, use some disinfectant and a soft towel soaked in warm water; let the wounds dry on their own and give her something that knocks her out."

Rachel nodded as she reconnected with reality and understood she had to take care of Quinn. For a second, seeing her girlfriend lying on the bed and realizing the full extent of the whipping, she felt lost but now, thanks to Santana, she was back on Earth.

"Good. Me and Britt will be waiting for you in the kitchen."

The Latina took Britt's hand and headed downstairs.

* * *

**Emh... out of respect for readers I add this note:**

**I'm utterly disappointed when a fanfic I read doesn't have an end, so it won't be this the case. I know where I want to go with this story and what I want to tell, so I don't think I will suffer from "writer's block" or something like that; but I've just started a new project (I'm actually working to cross one of the items on my "do-before-die" list so...) and I'm not sure how much this new project will get in the way.**

**I'll try to be regular as I was with Claimed, but chances are that sooner or later I will be "away from keyboard" for a while (or at least I hope so, because it will mean my project is getting real...). When that time will come... FEAR NOT, MY READERS!... cause it won't be an endless hiatus. Raised will have an end, that I can promise you, if you'll still be around and willing to read it, of course.**


	2. New life and old life

**WOW, thanks for all those reviews and alerts, I'm so glad you're stille with me!**

**After the first chapter that gave you a little preview of where this is going, now we go back to the beginning, a couple of days after the claiming, and from now on we move straight forward (well, almost straight forward...) through the events that will bring Rachel and Quinn there.**

* * *

Rachel was staring at her side for quite some time now. It had been two days since she claimed Quinn Fabray, her Quinn, and she still couldn't believe it. But there she was, the woman she always loved, quietly sleeping on her bed, with her mouth slightly open, tempting, daring her to kiss her. Rachel lingered on the idea for a little while, but then thought better; she didn't want to wake her up. Quinn was exhausted and she could really use all the rest she could get. As a matter of fact she spent the most part of her days sleeping or dozing off, so much, in fact, that Rachel got worried and called the doctor.

"I would say this is perfectly normal, miss. Your slave has been through a lot lately, and now her body and mind demand rest. I wouldn't worry if she sleeps for four or five days in a row, but if she keeps going on like this call me back. I'll come and check on her."

Blonde hair was covering almost her entire face. Rachel loved the way short hair looked on Quinn, it brought out the beauty of her wonderful eyes, but, again, what wasn't beautiful about the woman that was lay on her side? She smiled. She was feeling like a teenager again: her long lost love had returned into her life, they were bound together for eternity, and future held wonders in store for them. She was so happy she was actually scared. She had now everything she'd ever wanted, and she had everything to lose.

She got up and walked down to the kitchen to make breakfast. There were still so many things to do, so many things to talk about and so many things to discover. 48 hours were enough to understand that the Quinn she fell in love with when she was just a girl was still there but was indeed a different person. She moved to the kitchen opening drawers and cabinets to look for her Italian mocha. Did Quinn like coffee? She did when she was a teenager but would she still like it?

"Hey!"

Rachel turned around. A sleepy Quinn walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes like a baby. She was wearing the loose white t-shirt she gave her and some baggy gray boxer shorts but, God, did she look stunning even in those.

"I thought you were still sleeping."

Rachel walked to her kissing her cheek. Her skin was still hot from lying on the pillow for so long. Gently placing a hand on her shoulder she directed Quinn toward the table.

"I was, but then I heard you get up."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, it's ok." Quinn smiled at her, sitting down and leaning her head on her hand. The way Rachel touched her was still weird: it was sweet, and caring, but she wasn't used to people touching her like that, not after the last months anyway. "I feel like I've slept for a century."

"15 hours." Rachel corrected her. "I thought you might have slipped into a coma."

"Sorry." Quinn half smiled at her.

"Don't be, I was just worried. How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Surprisingly, still tired. I feel like I could sleep for the rest of the week."

"Then do it, no one will stop you, and I promise I will try not to wake you up."

_'No one will stop you.'_

The words echoed in Quinn's mind. That was a first! She really had no other dominant waiting for her at his place, no officer pounding on her cell's door and, incredibly, she wasn't stopping herself either. There were no nightmares to wake her up and, when she was sleeping, her body quietly snuggled up to Rachel on the bed.

"Are you hungry?" Rachel asked her.

"No." She thought for a second "Yes." She thought for another moment. "I'm not sure."

Rachel burst into a laugh. "Decisions are everything in life!"

"Don't mock me Rach" Quinn frowned "My stomach feels empty, but I don't know what I feel like having: something sweet? milk? mint? maybe milk with mint... or bacon? not eggs, though, definitely not eggs..." She widened her eyes saying the last part and Rachel took a mental note to find out, sooner or later, why eggs were _'definitely' _off the breakfast 's list. "I would like to have so many things but then, when I think about actually eating I feel my stomach close up."

Rachel welcomed with relief what was the longest sentence Quinn said to her since the claiming. The brunette was eager to detect any signs of that Quinn was slowly loosening up and this was one big sign.

"Mmm" she leaned on the table getting real close to Quinn "Why don't we start with something easy on your stomach?" She whispered. "How about a kiss? Could you be hungry for that?"

Quinn smiled lightly and let Rachel kiss her. The old Quinn would have said something like "That won't fill my hole, Rach" smirking provocatively, but the new Quinn was still far away from that. In time, Rachel thought to herself, Quinn would feel comfortable enough to joke like she used to, but for now feeling her respond to the kiss was the best Quinn could give her.

Rachel nipped her lip, playing with her. She had a plan, it was not very clear or very detailed yet, but she knew she had to get Quinn back on her feet, physically and mentally.

At first she was lost. Just after the claiming she realized she didn't know what to do. She had been so focused on convincing Quinn to trust her that she never thought about what to do next, but when Quinn agreed to be hers she realized there was still a lot of work to do. Lucky for her they spent the few hours almost in silence, kissing and discovering their bodies all over again, and then Quinn's body just gave up falling in that comatose state she was still in. She came to for just a few select moments, when Brittany arrived and dove in the bed, suddenly waking Quinn up, suffocating her with hugs and kisses till Quinn started laughing, begging for mercy; and when Santana silently took her into her arms, whispering something that Rachel couldn't hear but that made Quinn's eyes tear up. With the exception of those moments and the occasional waking up to drink and go to the bathroom, Quinn slept the entire time, and Rachel was grateful for that. Worried, but very very grateful. It gave her the chance to collect her thoughts and understand she had to plan for their future; a course of action that would lead the scary, edgy, confused Quinn, towards becoming the Quinn she really was.

Just like when she decided to claim her, she figured out that there were some steps they would have to take, eventually, if they wanted to last, and that those steps had to be taken in order, one by one, or everything would have fallen apart. Some of them would have to be small, almost insignificant steps, but others would have to be incredibly hard to take. And then, of course, there was the gigantic black hole in her whole plane, the one that kept on sucking in her thoughts and made them disappear in a scary and uncertain silence.

Submission.

Every time her mind got anywhere near that topic it immediately shut down. She knew Quinn was never a slave in her heart, but she also knew that they had to fill a role in their world, and, most importantly, that she was not playing the part when she showed her dominant side. She could have been a slave, maybe, in her past, if things turned out differently, but she had spent more than ten years training herself to be a dominant, and although at first it was just so she could have a fighting chance for Quinn, it then became a part of her. That's who she was and there was no turning back from that.

"Rachel?"

"Mmm?"

"I think I figured out what I want."

Rachel backed up. "Anything, Quinn. Just name it."

"Cookies." She said. "I think I would really love some of Angela's cookies."

* * *

So there they were, in the old neighborhood, familiar smells and sights, the sounds of a life she left behind. It had been just a few months since she was taken away from her old apartment to be sentenced as "no longer public property", and yet it all seemed changed somehow. Maybe it was her, yes, it was definitely her, nothing can change so quickly, right? She looked up the street, trying to see as far as she could, past the traffic lights and the pharmacy. Her mind turned right and followed running up the hill, faster, past the bus stop, the gas station, the clothes store, to the red building where once was her home.

Did they reassign it? Was someone living in her old apartment? Did it matter if there was?

"Quinn?" Rachel called out. She seemed nervous and that was uncommon, to say the least. Rachel was usually confident about herself, even as a teenager, and then, growing up to be the famous talented woman she was, her confidence grew up exponentially.

"This way." Quinn lead the way towards the restaurant.

It was closed, obviously. It was early in the afternoon and Angela and Marco were probably setting things up for dinner. Quinn entered anyway, making the bell over the door ring.

"We're closed!" A voice shouted from the back. "Come back after six."

"Don't you even have some cookies?" She asked, shouting back.

"No, we don'…" The man came to the main hall drying his hand on a used rag. He stopped in mid sentence trying to convince himself he was really seeing what he was seeing.

"I'll walk the dog if you let me have some cookies." Quinn took a step forward. "Or I can wash dishes. I know how to do it, I have some practice."

The man would have loved to keep up the act but he was getting too emotional for it. He threw the towel on the closest table and closed his arms around her tiny body.

"For God's sake, kid, I thought you were as good as dead!"

"I thought that too." She whispered in his ear.

"Don't you ever, ever, do that to us again, understood?"

"I'll try not to."

He broke the embrace, keeping her at arm's length, and looking at her with a satisfied and incredulous smirk he was forcefully trying to hide under his tough mask. "You know, it's not for me, it's for Ange's sake. She cried herself to sleep over you every other night, and you know how much I hate when she cries." He sniffed, pinching his nose with two fingers, trying to look casual and cool, failing miserably.

"Sorry about that."

"Yeah, yeah, you're always sorry kid. You will have to walk the dog a lot to make up for that."

"Who makes up for what?" Angela appeared in the door, an apron tied around her waist, hand on her hip in that teapot stand she was so famous for among her clients.

"Me." Quinn said "For being away so long."

As soon as she saw her, Angela dropped her authoritarian attitude and ran towards Quinn, crying even before she reached her and she literally lifted Quinn up from the floor.

"Ow, hey, easy." Laughed Quinn, but Angela took her time before putting Quinn down.

The older woman didn't speak, she kept squeezing Quinn until she her asked to let go, which she did, reluctantly.

Quinn had the widest smile Rachel had ever seen. She seemed to glow just from being in the presence of those two people who were old enough to be her parents. Rachel stood a few steps behind her, watching the scene. During the drive to that place she wondered how come she didn't know anything about those people: she spent a fair amount of time stalking Quinn, trying to keep an eye on her, and yet she didn't know Angela and her husband existed. Was there something else she missed? Something so important she didn't know about?

"This is Rachel." Quinn introduced her, inviting her to come closer.

"I know you," Angela was the first one to get closer. She scrutinized her, like she was some sort of clothes she was deciding about buying or not. "You're that actress… Berry."

"Just Rachel." She extended her arm to shake hands, smiling her best red carpet smile, as the professional actress she was. She wanted to impress those people because they were obviously important to Quinn, but her smile didn't seem to do the trick with Angela.

"I don't like you!"

Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"You play terrible characters, you're always the dumb one who falls in love for the cute dominant" she explained to both women. "You perpetuate a stereotype I don't agree with and, besides that, you're always in those sad magazines with your flirts. You're a little slutty."

And there it was, the infamous honesty you could get only at Marco's place. Whether you were dominant or a slave you only get what you deserved in that place, with no regards to your status.

Quinn shot Angela an angry look, even if she knew it wouldn't have any effect.

"Wow, talk about being blunt, huh?" Rachel said trying to hide her embarrassment. "I guess criticism is good for personal growth. I think. Probably. But may I point out that not everything that comes out in magazines is true? Most of it is bullshit."

"Is your tongue down some random guy's throat bullshit too?" Insisted Angela.

"Actually, it is. I'm more into girls."

"Oh." She looked at Quinn. "Good to know."

Angela ended the conversation as abruptly as she started it, leading the way towards the back kitchen where she kept her special cookie reserve.

"Come on girls, this way."

* * *

While Quinn was still closing the main entrance she heard the soft _'poof'_ sound of Rachel throwing herself on the couch and she smiled: drama queen Rachel, of course.

She walked into the living room, next to the couch. The brunette was laying face down, mumbling something Quinn couldn't hear because of the pillow she buried herself into. She had to admit it was a rough start for... whatever was that they were having, but she wanted to see Ange and Marco so bad she couldn't take it anymore, even if she hadn't had time to properly prepare Rachel for that. She affectionately caressed her calf, getting her attention.

"That woman!" Rachel turned around as itf that simple touch was the cue for her big entrance to the drama stage "I mean, I know you care about her but... that woman!" Quinn tried to suppress the laugh at Rachel's bewildered look. "God knows I'm used to criticism, with my work and all, but I won an award for that role, a fucking award, how could she say I was stiff as if I had a stick up my butt?" Quinn knew better than to interrupt Rachel in her outburst. It might have been almost ten years since they were close but Rachel Berry hadn't changed that much. "I researched for that! Do you know what it takes to play someone who's been incarcerated in a mental facility? I worked hard, and I tell you" she raised her index finger in the air to make a point "I was fucking perfect!"

Quinn took the raised hand between her own speaking softly. "She did it on purpose Rach. She wanted to test you."

"Oh, she did test my patience for sure! All those questions about my flirts, all the photos in the magazines, and I don't get it! If she doesn't like me how come she knew all that gossip about me? One would imagine she would have just ignored me, right? And what about all those graphic descriptions, I mean, I'm not a little girl or a puritan but, but she made it look so dirty, she made _me_ look so dirty and..."

The old Quinn would have stopped her by now, silencing a hyperactive over thinking Rachel with a kiss or just raising one of her eyebrows, but the new Quinn hadn't gained back that confidence yet, so she just sat there, patiently waiting for Rachel to finish her rant.

"...I get that she cares for you but all this overprotectiveness... is that even a word? Oh God, that woman is making me make up new words. Last time I did this I was still in school, this is not good."

There was something, in Rachel's sullen expression, that made Quinn want to kiss her. That pouty face of her set off Quinn's protective instincts and she just wanted to reassure the other woman that the world still a lot of love for her in the world, but she couldn't really do it.

For ten years Quinn trained herself to hide her feelings because it was dangerous to let other people know, really know, about her. She trained herself to give the dominants what they wanted, without feelings involved, while her true self was safe and hidden behind levels of high protective walls. But now that someone had gotten through those walls she felt exposed like never before, and she didn't know anymore how to act. She felt exposed: every loving gesture was welcomed and scary at the same time.

It was stupid, really, because she and Rachel already made love, and it was good, or, to be more accurate, it was fucking awesome, so why in the world was she now backing up? Why did it feel so wrong and right at the same time? She knew she could trust Rachel and, at the same time, she knew she couldn't trust her either.

"Quinn? What's wrong?" Rachel asked sitting up on the couch.

"Nothing." Quinn lied hiding behind her mask.

"Are you sure? You seem..." Rachel reached for her face, but Quinn flinched.

"I said I'm fine, Rach!" Quinn got up and a moment later realized just how rude that was. She must be bipolar, how else could you explain how she was acting. "I'm sorry, it's just..."

Rachel waited for her to finish, which she never did. "Just what Quinn?"

"Nothing." She lied again. Words were tough to handle for Quinn. She was always able to use them as a weapon but when it came down to expressing her feelings, words seemed all wrong. Too big, too small, not even close to what she was going through, words were just alien objects to her and she resolved to not using them. "I have to use the bathroom."

Rachel sighed as she watched Quinn disappear in the hallway wondering where she went wrong. As it turned out it wasn't her or, better, it was her, but not just her.

* * *

**I almost forgot, but tomorrow is Christmas so... MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU!  
**

**See you next week with chapter 3! ;)**


	3. The pendulum

**Thank you again guys, for all the alerts and reviews!**

**You're in for a longer chapter this time, with some plot peaking in and a few scenes that should hint to what daylife is like for Rachel and Quinn, now. I will warn you, though, their relationship will progress slowly (basically because I don't think Quinn could just snap into being a slave) so in this, and in the next chapters, you will see how their relationship moves forward on unstable legs. Hopefully the things that will happen will keep you interested and the story won't be too boring. ;)  
**

* * *

And patience, indeed, Rachel did need to go through the next days and weeks. Their life together was an erratic sequence of ups and downs.

Luckily they both had Santana and Britt to balance this new/old relationship of sorts. Rachel hated to admit it, even to herself, but the Latina had been a real savior in those first days. Her and Britt had such a calming effect on Quinn that she was actually jealous of them. While she couldn't quite let it go while she was alone with Rachel, Quinn could be herself around those two.

More than once, in the first days, when she came back from work, she had found Britt and Quinn lying together on the couch, hugging, often asleep, while Santana watched over them from the launch table.

"If I didn't know better I would be jealous of those two." The Latina half whispered, one day, to herself. "They just seem to click when they're together, you know? Like... puzzle pieces or something." They silently stared at the two bodies on the couch, a peaceful expression on both their faces. "B is such a touchy-feely person and seems to be the only one that can make Quinn's walls drop immediately."

Rachel sighed. She was trying so hard while Britt could do it without even knowing it. "Don't bother, dwarf, that's a special thing Britt has: when she hugs you, you just feel safer than in any other place in the world. Trust me, I've been there." She smiled.

"I wish she would feel so safe in my arms too."

Santana rolled her eyes. "After less than a week? You should know better than that Berry. She wants to go there, so just let her get her shit together before starting to cry over her reserved behavior or whatever you're actually moping about."

"I wasn't..."

"Shhh!" Santana silenced her raising a finger. "Not a question, Berry. It doesn't require any answer from you." She stood up. "Now let me go get my woman, babysitting time is over and you can take care of your blondie."

Santana was one hell of a friend for her during those first days. Rude, arrogant and often a real bitch, but here and there she let a few advice or just reassuring phrases slip. Those were the very things that kept Rachel on the right track in the unknown territory of their new relationship with Quinn.

When Rachel claimed her she knew Quinn would need time to adjust. She had needed it when they were just kids and she would have needed it even more now, after what she went through. Rachel was ok with that, but she wasn't prepared to deal with the two different Quinns she had to face every day. There was the one Quinn that was trying to get closer to Rachel, that, although advancing at a painfully slow speed, tried to have tentative physical contact, small things really, like holding hands, or just leaning on the couch while they were watching TV. It was the Quinn that made Rachel feel hopeful, because she knew that somewhere inside that weird mood-swinging woman, there was a part that still loved her and cared for her. But then there was this other Quinn, totally different. She was scared, rude, aggressive, and she always stepped in when Quinn seemed on the verge of kissing Rachel. She was the Quinn that never relaxed, that never trusted Rachel completely, that always feared bad things were about to happen.

"But it's worth it." She said to herself while she was standing in the door, in the kitchen, quietly watching Quinn as she was making dinner.

That day she had just found out that the ratings of her show weren't as high as the network expected and, in order to gain more viewers, the powers that be had decided to cast a few shows live, letting the audience decide between multiple choices of plot. It was a suicidal mission because it meant that the whole crew had to prepare 4 different complete shows in just a couple of weeks but the bosses didn't want to hear a word about it.

"Either we shake things up or we close and we become unemployed. What's it gonna be?"

To give credit to the whole crew she had to admit they faked enough determination and self pride for the oncoming challenge to fool their bosses, although privately they all agreed that if the new formula would succeed they would have to kiss their private lives goodbye until the end of the season.

She paused at the door, wondering if she could manage both her work and her new/old relationship with Quinn at the same time. Would she have enough energy for both?

Quinn was washing some salad in the kitchen sink, with her back to the door. Rachel walked over to her and hugged her from behind, sure she would find the answer right there, in their physical closeness. But as soon as her arms closed around the blonde, Quinn froze, hands still under the stream of water.

"I'm sorry." Rachel quickly let her go. "I thought you liked being hugged like this."

"I do. I just…" Again Quinn didn't finish her thought.

"You just?"

"Nothing, I'll get used to it, don't worry."

Quinn knew she was making Rachel worry a lot and, for once, it was not because of her attitude or behavior. Rachel loved her enough to respect her boundaries, but,as much as she cared for the brunette, Quinn just wasn't prepared for everything. She knew Rachel would deserve more affection and a loving partner, but she couldn't be that person just yet, and she was starting to wonder if she could ever be in the future. She was already asking and receiving a lot from her, she could not bother Rachel with those small things too. She would find a way to cope with that, eventually.

"No, I do worry, and I would like you to talk to me because otherwise I will just start making things up and, you know me, I will come up with the most extreme and bizarre explanations."

Quinn smiled. "You probably would, huh?"

"Most definitely!"

"But it's really nothing, Rach, I can handle it."

"Tell me."

"It's stupid, you don't need to…"

"Quinn Fabray!"

"Fine!" She exhaled shaking her head. "It's just a physical reaction, a reflex. I guess that after so many years my body assumes the worst when someone touches me and I don't see how, or when, or who it's coming from. But, as I said, It's just a reflex," she dismissed the issue casually waving her hand, "and it will eventually go away, or I will learn to control it. No big deal." She returned to her task of washing the salad.

"What about" Rachel took her hands and turned Quinn around "if I'd do something like this." She closed in the distance between them, sliding her arms around Quinn's waist. "It starts as a regular hug, you see," she explained while Quinn kept her hands in mid air, trying to see where Rachel was going, "but then I gracefully slide behind you," she moved around Quinn, never letting go of her, "and I stress the _gracefully _part, you know, like a ballerina", she joked and heard Quinn chuckle as she moved behind her and pressed her cheek against the back of Quinn's shoulder. "How does it feel?"

Quinn lowered her arms and took Rachel's hands in hers tightening her grip around her waist. "Perfect." she murmured.

Rachel kissed her shoulder "See? When you talk to me we can do just fine."

Quinn closed her eyes. What did she do to deserve someone like Rachel in her life? She was so good to her, so understanding, it made her feel guilty when she wasn't able to give the other woman what she deserved.

"Thank you."

"For hugging you? I happen to like it too, you know." Rachel joked.

"For hugging me the right way" Quinn explained, leaning back into Rachel. "And for… waiting."

"Ok, wait, turn around." Rachel said loosening her grip. "I want to look at you while I say this."

The sex talk, another of those issues they carefully avoided, as well as submission, as well as Quinn's job. They were all going to be big issues and neither Rachel nor Quinn felt ready to face them just yet, when things in their new relationship status had still to settle.

"Do you remember what you said to me after our first kiss?" Rachel asked seriously. She had waited for that moment for a few days now. She knew Quinn well enough to guess what was going through her mind most of the time, and she was sure the big no-sex issue was there, somewhere, eating her alive.

After the claim Rachel tried a couple of times to make love to Quinn but she realized pretty soon Quinn wasn't ready for that. Sure, they already made love during the claim, but that was after a rollercoaster of an emotional ride that took Quinn by surprise. But now that things were quieter and safer Quinn kept holding back, unsure, or maybe scared, Rachel couldn't tell.

"We didn't really talk after that, Rach." Quinn answered a little embarrassed as the memory of their first kiss came to her mind. "I threw you out of my room."

"Not that, the day after, when we met in the back yard. Do you remember what you said?"

Quinn wasn't very proud of her behavior back then. She was terrified by the way Rachel made her feel and she acted in the only way she knew: aggressively.

"Rach, I…"

"Shh." Rachel put a finger on her lips, knowing an unnecessary apology was coming. "Back then you said you wanted it to be on your own terms, remember?"

Quinn nodded. For a long time, when she was a teenager, she tried to fool herself into thinking Rachel was going to be a plaything and, for a short while, she lied so well to herself that she actually believed it. Of course that was until Rachel turned her world upside down proving she was not just some temporary game.

"And I agreed. I told you I was ok with that, and I still am, nothing has changed." She brought Quinn's hand to her lips and kissed it gently. "On your terms, Quinn, whenever you're ready. You set the pace and I'll tag along, ok?"

Quinn smiled, sadly, and looked away, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to flow down her cheeks. "Sooner or later I will wake up and realize it was all just a dream, right? I will be locked in some cell, or in a mental facility, completely nuts, living in my own mind, and you will be miles away, living your own life. And this will have been all but a dream."

"Don't be silly, you couldn't imagine me as good as I am in your dreams. Nobody could. I'm so perfect I must be real!" She joked doing a pirouette and finishing it with a theatrical bow.

Quinn laughed, grateful that Rachel could always understand her moods and find a way to switch them to brighter tones "Miss humble, ladies and gentlemen, flesh and bones."

"Yep, that's me." Rachel took a piece of carrot that Quinn had been chopping before and was left with the other vegetables on the kitchen cutting board. "And now that we've all agreed on how wonderful I am, can we finish making dinner? I'm kind of starving." She noisily chewed the carrot lifting up the covers on the pots and peaking inside. One step at the time, she though: sex? Check. Two more to go.

* * *

But it was all ups and downs, really. As the days went by and Quinn's physical status improved significantly, her behavior started to be even more shy and reserved. It was like walking backwards, instead of things going better they seemed to go worse and worse, like they were growing apart.

It didn't matter how much they cared for one another, they hadn't shared the same space for ten years and it was awkward trying to get to know each other once again. They talked or, to be more accurate, Rachel talked. A lot. She told Quinn about her job, her projects, how it worked. She told her about silly little things that happened while she was shooting and she told her of her reputation too. She was known for being a diva.

"But really, I'm not. I might be demanding, I know that, and I have my rituals, and maybe I want things to be in a certain way before I start shooting but, that doesn't make me a diva right?"

Quinn smirked shaking her head.

That was all she got from her: smiles, smirks, hands touching, but no words. Not that she was completely silent, she still said insignificant things like "can you pass me the water please" or "it's beautiful today", but she didn't say much else than that. It was like the teenage Quinn she remembered, just… worse. Getting a word out of her was tougher than it used to be, and although Rachel knew that all those years and everything she went through must have left a deep impact on Quinn's soul, she didn't expect it to be to this extent.

After days of useless attempts she decided to even the playfield. It worked before, during the claim, so maybe it could work again: they wouldn't be talking.

It was challenging for Rachel: she was not used to holding back but, once again, it was a mean to an end, and she was willing to try anything for Quinn. A part of her was screaming inside her head to just force Quinn to speak and get over with it. It was the frustrated part of her, the one that waited ten years to be reunited with Quinn and, now that they were finally living together and they were bound for life, wanted nothing more than make love to her over and over and over again, till the end of time. But that was a part Rachel could keep at bay, at least for now.

* * *

That day she came home from work a little later than usual. She knew Quinn was out most of the morning helping Britt out with her new life project, opening an ice cream shop, and that she too would have come home late. Rachel entered the kitchen quietly and found the blonde near the sink, trying to cook up some lunch. She walked over to her, careful to gradually enter her field of vision not to startle her, and when Quinn turned to her, smiling, she closed the distance and gave her the "honey I'm home kiss" that waited all day on her lips. Usually, at that point, she would start telling Quinn about her day, describing with an unnecessary amount of old fashioned adjectives the scenes, the gags with the crew, the way they never did it quite right and how she always had to step in for the final touch on the show; her suspicions about the assistant director who might or might not have stolen the costume designer's watch (she was still not sure about it, she needed to check his alibi). But none of that happened that day. Rachel just took the knife from the drawer and started preparing onions and vegetables for their dinner.

Rachel's behavior made Quinn particularly curious and contemplative, and the brunette more than once caught her glancing over and then pretending she didn't. It was so cute, actually, that every time it happened Rachel had to turn around to hide her smile. Oh, Quinn was so going to give up first this time, she knew it!

She took a spoon of vegetable soup and held it up in front of Quinn's mouth for her to taste. Quinn looked at her, waiting, expecting her to say something, but Rachel just stood and raised an eyebrow when the waiting took too long, as if she didn't understand the reason of Quinn's hesitation. They cooked, and ate in silence. Rachel made a point of honor to be as gentle and warm towards Quinn as much as possible without speaking, so she could see that nothing was wrong. She could tell, by the way the blonde started worrying her lip with her teeth, that she was trying to figure out Rachel's plan but she was still not sure about it.

Rachel giggled, thinking it was fun, once in a while, to make fun of her girlfriend. They cleaned up the kitchen and then moved to the lounge room to watch some TV.

"Fine!" Quinn finally said, as Rachel's head laid down on her lap as she usually did when they were watching a movie. "What the hell is going on?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, so now you speak."

Rachel couldn't help but smile. "I thought I would give you a taste of your own medicine, to let you know how it feels when someone doesn't talk to you."

"I do talk to you!" Quinn protested.

"Sure, 'could you hand me the salt' counts as conversation. I could have a more deep and meaningful talk with the guy who makes my coffee at the bar near the studio."

Quinn sighed. "I'm not the talking kind of woman, you know that, Rach."

"And I'm not asking you to recite me the Iliad, I just want you to talk to me, tell me what's on your mind."

"Nothing is on my mind, Rachel."

The brunette sat up, moving away. "Liar."

"So, now I'm mute and a liar. Anything else?"

Rachel didn't took the bait. "I know you're brooding over something, I can almost see the neurons, skinny scary neurons, running though your system carrying little piece of paper like medieval heralds, reaching your brain and reading out loud all your considerations as they pass it from one thought to the other."

Quinn burst out laughing.

"Is it funny?"

She tried to calm down covering her mouth with her hand. "Actually, it is, Rach. You're the only person in the whole universe who could see medieval heralds in my brain and I..." She froze, realizing what was going to slip out.

_And I love you for it, Rachel. _

It was just there, on her tongue, but she caught it just in time. She wasn't ready to face what would have come after that admission. Too many scary things waited for her after that moment and she couldn't handle it. Not yet at least.

"See? You did it again Quinn." She shook her head, frustrated. "What were you going to say?"

Quinn rubbed her eyes trying to collect herself. She really tried to keep the talking to an acceptable minimum, but it wasn't because she was trying to hide something. It was hard for her to think her life really changed. She still woke up in the middle of the night, sweating, scared, thinking she was still in her cell. Letting herself open up to someone, even Rachel, wasn't an option yet. She didn't want to rely on others, she had to be able to stand on her own two feet before she could risk losing her balance again letting Rachel see her thoughts.

"You already know what's on my mind more than anyone else in the world, Rachel."

"No, I don't. I guess, I make assumptions, I make up theories and I imagine things, but I do not know what's on your mind Quinn, and I really want to."

"I don't wanna shout you out."

"Then talk to me." Rachel begged.

Quinn took her hands, slowly grazing Rachel's soft skin with her thumb. Even finding the words to explain why she wasn't talking much was a hard task. She hesitated, searching through her mind, trying to catch a word, any word, to start with, but they kept on running away, hiding behind her fears and the things she taught herself during all her slave years.

"I'll try." was the best she could come up with after a while. She was afraid it wasn't going to be enough for Rachel and her endless questions, but instead it seemed to satisfy her.

"I can work with that."

Quinn closed her eyes, relieved.

"One question, though, that I need you to answer." And here it goes again, Rachel pain-in-the-ass Berry. She might seem to give up and let you win but, in the end, she always has her way.

"What?" Quinn asked, resigned.

"Do I scare you Quinn? Because sometimes you look so frightened and edgy that I'm afraid you would break down. Is it because of me?"

"No." She was quick to answer that "I know that you care for me..."

"Actually, I love you Quinn." Rachel corrected her.

The blonde smiled "...I know that you love me," she continued, "and I'm not scared of you."

"Then what are you scared of?"

Quinn straightened her back, creating more distance between them "You said one question, Rach."

Rachel knew she could force Quinn to spea; she could talk and annoy her with endless questions till she would give up, exasperated, but that wasn't Rachel's goal.

"Fair enough."

She placed a hand on the back of Quinn's neck and slowly pulled her closer. She pecked her lips once and then went for another kiss, lingering a little bit more. When she got away Quinn was smiling, thanking her for keeping her word and letting it go.

"Now come on, give me some space, I wanna watch some tv with you."

Rachel switched on the TV on to the movie channel, but instead of sitting on the couch side by side with Quinn, she playfully dragged her down till she spooned her.

"Stop it, Rachel, we're going to fall on the floor."

Rachel bumped her knees almost making her fall over the edge. "You're such a kid Rachel!" Quinn said trying to sound as serious as possible but failing miserably as the giggle in her voice was more than evident. Her mood had once again lighten up. Rachel had that effect on her, she could switch her moods with one single word or gesture. She was that amazing.

Rachel kissed her shoulder tightening her grip around Quinn's waist. "You like it, admit it!"

"I don't." She said trying to sound as serious as possible.

"Ow! Now you're just playing tough because I outdid you with that silence thing."

"No way! I could have totally gone on for days without saying a word while you, on the other hand..."

"Don't challenge me, Fabray, I'm a very competitive person." She took the remote to change the channel but the TV went black for a second, and then a man appeared on the screen.

"This is a rebel broadcast. It's encrypted so don't bother trying to trace it." The man said as the camera slowly zoomed to his face. "My name is Sam Evans, and I'm on your TV to bring you a massage."

Quinn sat up on the couch as soon as the image of her ex appeared on the screen. He changed since high-school but not that much. He still had those amazing deep eyes, and his mouth always seemed to curve up on one side, in a weird smile.

"You know me as a football player, you called me your hero and your idol when I signed autographs for you outside the field, you shook my hand and treated me like a friend even if we didn't know each other." Quinn looked at Rachel bewildered. What the hell was Sam doing on an illegal broadcast on TV? "And now they are telling you that I'm a criminal, an outlaw, that I defy the system and endanger your lifestyle. They tell you I'm a psycho, the boogey man, they use my name to scare children, to say that if they don't behave they will end up like a crazy shit like me." Rachel sat up next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "But I'm not a hero, and neither a criminal. I'm just a man who fell in love with a beautiful woman and decided to spend his whole life with her, even if she was a slave like me." Quinn was sitting on the edge of the couch. "And I'm not the only one. Slaves and dominants alike, we all might fall in love with one of our kind. It's not fair that we can't make it official, it's not fair that we can't be an item as any other couple."

The man on television took a deep breath as the camera zoomed in even more. Now his face was on the whole screen. "Don't try to trace this broadcast, you won't be able to anyway. You'll hear again from me soon, we just started, and we won't stop until we get the recognition we want."

Then the screen went black again and, a moment after that, the movie continued as if nothing happened.

"What was that?" Quinn asked turning to Rachel.

Rachel folded her hands on her lap. While Quinn was living her personal hell the world didn't stop for her but kept on moving on. Fast. Things happened, people disappeared, and rumors spread.

"It happened a few days after you were declared not public property anymore," Rachel quietly explained. "It took some time for the media to realize what was going on, that Sam Evans, the football star, had gone missing along with his lover, a slave like him.

"Initially their disappearing went unnoticed. Sport shows said he was injured and recovering," she continued recalling having seen a few of those night shows herself, "but about a month after they ran away, people weren't buying that injury lie anymore. Speculations about him quickly rose and soon after that his escape went public. They tried to make him look like the bad guy. There was a huge fuss about him, there were TV shows and articles in the newspapers saying he was doing drugs; antipsychotic mainly."

"They tried to make him look like a nutjob to explain why he so suddenly ran away, and yet, despite those rumors, his fanbase was still loyal to him for a long time. It took some effort from the authorities to destroy the image he had. He was known worldwide for being an easygoing person, with a weird sense of humor, but nice and caring. Everybody loved him, in and out from the field, and a lot of people didn't want to blindly buy the official side of the story."

"But they did." Quinn said. There was a sad note in her voice like if she knew it because of personal experience.

"Eventually, yes." Rachel admitted. "It's hard to defend yourself when you're missing and all the media point at you as the bad guy. They really turned him into the boogey man, at least until he appeared on national television, just like today, to tell his version of the story. He said he was in love and that was why he ran away. He said that he and his girlfriend were now living among refugees and they would keep on fighting against the system until they would be able to live their love openly and without repercussion."

"Refugees?"

"Apparently," Rachel continued, "there are quite a few people out there who shared his vision. Or at least that's what he says during the broadcasts."

"But you don't believe him."

Rachel sighed. "I don't know. It's not likely that so many people would skip under the radar of Central Direction, but, on the other hand, even if they had we wouldn't know, right? We know what they want us to know, nothing less, nothing more."


	4. Sam Evan's story

**To the one who asked: yes, faberry is my end game. It's my start game and middle game too as a matter of fact. I wrote Claimed with the idea to have "choices" as a theme throughout the story, in Raised I'm writing having in mind that "love is not enough", so I think they will have to go trough a lot before they can have their happilly ever after.**

**GUEST! Here you are! I'm glad you're still here because you're the one gave me the idea of the slave revolution. Although I'm probably taking the story in a different direction from the one you intended I still owe you a thank you for that hint!**

**This chapter is a short parenhesis about Sam (we will see more of him later, don't worry), but after this we will back on track with Rachel and Quinn and a few long chapters. See you next week!**

* * *

Sam Evans was a lucky man.

He was the beloved son, the one the system always talked about as the perfect example for everybody to follow. He made a huge mistake when he was a teenager. He was a brat, back then, with a great potential but still no functioning brain to guide it. He was handsome, had a great hand and a written future as a football star when he met a girl, a petite, crazy blonde, who seduced him and tricked him into fathering her child.

That, at least, is how his manager told his story.

It was true all but for the petite blonde part, not as much about the seducing and tricking part. "It takes two for giving birth to a child, you know" he repeated, not knowing that, more than once, the mother of his daughter had said the exact same thing.

Of course it was easier to say it now, now that it was over, all behind his back, but at that time, when he was still underage, it was scary as hell.

When they found out about the pregnancy he froze. He was there when Quinn Fabray was taken away to the facility, to spend the months of her pregnancy in isolation, surrounded just by people who kept repeating what a failure she was. He was there, and he locked eyes with her as the guards made her sit in the car that took her away. He was afraid they would walk over to him too, grab his arm and drag him away in front of all his friends and teammates. His life would be over, his life was over.

He stood still as the guards closed the car's door, as Quinn steadied herself, trying to show no emotion at all; they scanned the crowd and he felt their eyes on his skin, crawling, digging, ripping, tearing. He almost screamed. But then they turned around, walked to the car, and drove away.

Slowly everybody returned to their lives. Everybody but him. He stood there, watching the point where the car had disappeared, wondering when they would come back for him.

They never did.

In the next days, as he kept on living his life, pretending nothing happened, his thoughts often went to Quinn, to what she was living. Did she give up his name already? Why weren't they coming for him? Did she keet her mouth shout? And why on earth would she do that? Could he make it through without consequences? Could he hide? Could he run? Was his life ruined?

He thought about hiding, running away, but he really had no idea where to go. Everybody knew about him and Quinn and his closest friend started asking him if he was the father. He denied.

"She's a slut, she must have been seeing someone else." And she was. The problem was that that someone else was a gilr wh couldn't make her pregnant.

"But you had sex with her, right?"

"Of course I did, but I know how not to get her knocked up!"

Except he didn't, or at least his method wasn't as effective as he thought.

He had nightmares. He woke up in the middle of the night, almost crying, he kept on seeing Quinn's face in his dreams, a monstrous baby ripping its way through her womb, tearing her apart, and as she died, every time, bleeding out on the floor, the baby came out and pointed a claw at him.

"Daddy!" it called, bubbling balls of blood and saliva from its lipless mouth.

In the mean time the schools radio kept repeating the principal's message. "The father of Quinn Fabray's baby, man up and take responsibilities. A DNA test will be performed in three weeks (two weeks, one week... the count down kept going). Face the consequences and turn yourself in. It will be taken in consideration."

Sam didn't know if they were going to be lenient with him but when the principal's voice announced that the DNA test was due in 10 days he conceded that there was no real way out and knocked at his door.

Life, as he knew it, ended at that moment.

He ended up in another facility, similar to the one where Quinn had been taken to. He had his faire share of reprimanding speeches from friends, teachers and strangers, and he got locked up, but he was different than Quinn: he was sorry.

He will never know if it's because they brain-washed him or because he really starts to think what he has done was wrong, but he apologises, he lowers his gaze: they're right, he's wrong. Huge mistake, please forgive me!

And they do.

He comes back to school more or less at the same time than Quinn. He never saw his baby, he just knows its a girl. He tries to talk to Quinn, he stops her a couple of times inbetween classes. Theyir conversations are forced, useless.

"You ok?"

"Peachy."

"How is she?"

"I barely saw her Sam."

"Do you think...?"

"No."

After the first two conversations every time he tries to talk to her, Santana steps in.

"Walk away sperman!" And she pushes him away, sometimes with just one of her vicious looks, sometimes she physically slams him into the lockers.

The teams that contacted him before to take him into the pro league are, of course, gone, and he's kicked out from the football team, at least as a player. Since he showed real remorse for his mistake he's permitted to join the team as an assistant. It's not as good as being on the field but at least it makes him part of the team. Somehow.

When the time of the sorting comes, he's officially marked as a slave. It's not a big deal for him, that was where he was headed anyway. He spends a year in the camp, learning how to serve and when he comes out a second league team contacts hime. It's not the leading role he could have had if he had kept it in his pants, but it's a good job, and a career in football, more than he dared to hope for.

From that moment on his life is back on track. Not as shiny as it could have been, of course, but he manages to conquer a his spot under the lights, thanks to his abilities.

He takes the team to the first category and when he's back on the main stage his manager sells his story, his teenage troubles, as a story of redemption, the long jorney of a strong man who righted his mistakes. It does wonders. He becomes sort of a role model. Parents take their sons to him for a pic or an autograph, and he might never have the big titles of the Camphions, with the capital letters, but he gains a large fanbase that covers his back.

He's lucky.

While he ascends to the role of "popular hero" he overhears things about Quinn. He knows she's been... difficult, as they say. He also knows that she should go back to school, become a doctor, a lawyer, someone important, but she keeps on tripping along the way. She's not making it easier, probably she's not even trying. Every now and then he thinks about her, and he feels the regrets stinging at his side. He managed to get his life back together while she didn't. Probably because he was meant to be a slave anyway while she was meant to be a dominant. It's his fault. Well at least half of it is. He tries to reach her, a couple of times over the years. He wants to offer her help but the first time she turns him down and the second time she is, apparently, watched over by the Central Direction that tries to keep a very low profile on her. Next thing he knows is that there are bets on her claiming. High bets. And that's not a good thing.

He thinks about calling in a few favors, trying to get her out of it, but he starts having problems of his own now, and getting in the gambling, of whatever sort, is something that he can't afford.

His problems are named Mercedes.

They meet when he is hired by his new first league team. She's their secretary, and helped with pretty much everything that isn't directly related with the field or the ball. She helps the players find and settle in new homes, she organizes their trips outside home, she handle the press, and even helps the ones that don't know how to keep their personal blogs.

"Butthead Christopher!" She yells more than once "How many times do I have to say it? Just click send, for god's sake!"

She has the strongest will he has ever had to face, she's literally a rock, but she's also incredibly sweet, with a contagious laugh that always drags him along. They are best friends for almost two years, buddies of the best sort, she even helps him hook up a couple of times, and he sends a couple of friends her way too, but that was before. Before they realized that their friendship turned into something more.

They are a nice couple, they complement each other quite well. She is strong when he is soft, she laughs at his silly jokes, and he keeps her calm when she gets so pissed off she could tear heads apart. They are balanced or, as the romantics would say, soulmates.

The problem is that they are both slaves, and it's not officially allowed for two members of the same caste (whether they were two dominants or two slaves) to be publically engaged. In order to work, their society has to be ruled by rigid rules and relationships: the claim is the real foundry of their world, and that kind of commitment between two people is possible just among one dominant and one slave. Not two dominants, neither two slaves.

As for everything else, even in this case a relationship could be overlooked. You just needed to be subtle, even better if you had an official claim with someone that leaves you free to have a different relationship. It is common, mutual, two dominants in a relationship, claiming two slaves in a relationship. A happy, large family.

And even their relationship is overlooked at first. He's a known player, after all, a nice guy, they can cut him some slack, right? And she's a nice girl, what the hell, everybody needs some fun every now and then right? Except those two aren't doing it for fun. They are serious, dead serious.

The first to talk to Sam about it is his manager.

"Man, think this through, is it really worth it?"

"I love her Chris."

"No, no, no, don't give me that love crap. You could love her behind closed doors, if you know what I mean. Lay low for a while, would you?"

"But why? I don't hurt her, she doesn't hurt me, we don't hurt anybody else. Where's the harm?"

"You're breaking the law Sam, and you did it before, or do I have to remind you why you're not an all star gamer right now?"

"That was different" Sam talks back, getting irritated.

"No, it was not. It was you banging the wrong chick at the wrong time. Think about it: you can be forgiven once, but you can't do the same mistake again and hope you will still get through it!"

That is what got most under his skin, that they keep calling it, her, them, a mistake. They are not a mistake, they are two people falling in love.

She doesn't seem to mind much as he does. She's willing to keep it under the rug but, probably for the first time in his life, he is absolutely sure what course of action he has to take.

"I've lost it all once before, Mercedes" he says to her the night they make the decision "and if there is something that I learned from that experience is that it doesn't matter your social status, it doesn't mater what job you have, or how much money you can have in your bank account. What matters is that you can still look at yourself in the mirror when you wake up in the morning. I wouldn't be able to do it if I'd chicken out on Quinn when I was a teenager and I wouldn't be able to do it if I hide you, the most beautiful thing in my life."

Mercedes kisses him, then, and the next day they are both gone.


	5. Wanna ride?

**Back on the Faberry track for this longer chapter. **

**I understand this story is labelled as faberry but I have to warn you, I do intend to play with other characters too and although it might seem that this Sam's story is just a stand alone... it's not. In the general scheme Sam will have a part (minor part but still...) so I felt like I had to tell something about him. Anyways, we will**** leave Sam and Mercedes for a little while, now, while the plot brings in other players and storylines, but they both will be back, when all the plotlines will come together... Do I sound like a fortune teller or something? ahahaha, sorry, guys, didn't mean to tease but I hope you will enjoy what I have in mind for this story ;)**

**A HUGE thanks to my beta readers that went through the pain of reading the story with a lot of mistakes and were so kind to give me a few suggestions about the characters too! **

* * *

In the days after the rebel broadcast Quinn kept looking at the screen, every night, as if she was expecting to see Sam again.

Rachel knew that the illegal transmission was erratic and irregular. There was no way to predict when, or even if, Sam would come back on air, but Quinn couldn't know that and her reaction was to be expected. After all, many felt the same after seeing the broadcast on their home screens for the first time.

It was unusual, in their world, to find someone who was brave enough or stupid enough - depending on where you stood - to challenge the system, but it was even more unusual, not to say highly improbable, to find someone who would do it in such a blatant way as Sam.

The idea alone of what he was doing, of what he was talking about, was considered heretic, a threat to the very foundation of their society. His words shook consciences, prompting a ripple of confusion and uncertainty. People whispered about him, about his beliefs, and he forced them to think about something they never even considered before: was it wrong to force people to mate just because they belonged to one group or the other? Was it an absurd and abstract imposition? Shouldn't they be free to openly love whomever they wished?

By the time Quinn saw the broadcast everyone else had had time to think about it, but for her it was a recent discovery and she still had to process it all.

Or, at least, that's what Rachel kept repeating to herself to soothe the stinging jealousy which hit her when she realized that her girlfriend longed to see the face of her ex on TV.

It was irrational and she knew that, and she couldn't hold it against Quinn when she didn't actually give her a reason to be jealous in the first place, but jealousy was never a matter of logic and rationality. For Rachel, it just was.

And then, again, showing Quinn that side of her was not the best thing she could do in that moment. Maybe later, when things would be more stable and secure, she would let Quinn see that part of her but, right now, acting like a possessive girlfriend was a big no-no!

_'Patience! _Rachel told herself once again. _'And keep on trusting her. You'll eventually get tjere.'_

So she pretended to ignore Quinn's expectant glances at the screen whenever they cuddled in front of the TV, and to take comfort in the closeness of their bodies as she rested her head on Quinn's lap.

They spent a lot of evenings in that way, sometimes with Santana and Brittany on the other couch, keeping them company, and sometimes just on their own.

It was one of the first things that came to Rachel's mind when she thought back to the start of their relationship. When they were still in school watching TV together was one of the thing Quinn liked the most, probably because it gave her an excuse to be with Rachel without acknowledging that she wanted to be with her.

At first, during those nights, Quinn was very tense but thanks to Rachel's consistent behavior, the comforting cuddling on the couch and her ability to calm Quinn with just a touch, the Blonde slowly started to accept that she could actually enjoy their time together. She didn't have to fear anything bad coming in hte near future, she could just let old feelings surface again.

Usually Quinn would take her spot on the corner of the couch, and Rachel would lay her head on the blonde's lap, enjoying the feeling of fingers tentatively playing with her hair. That, of course, until Quinn would fall asleep, her head tipped to the side, mouth slightly opened and an expression so peaceful on her face that Rachel would just stare at her for a few minutes, before summoning the will power to wake her up and made her walk upstairs to their bedroom.

"Why don't we switch places?" Rachel proposed one night, walking from the kitchen holding a cup of hot milk with honey in her hands. "You fall asleep either way, so it's better if you just lay down. At least you'll be in a comfortable position." She said, taking the corner spot.

"I do not fall asleep all the times."

"Yes you do." Rachel scoffed. "TV is like your personal sleeping pill. Every. Single. Time."

"That's not fair." Quinn protested and sat on the couch next to her, determined to prove to Rachel was wrong. She was going to watch whatever was on TV until the end, no matter how tedious it was, just to make a point.

"What is not fair," Rachel said taking her hand and, winning a slight resistance, dragging Quinn's head down to her lap "is that my girlfriend can't even stay awake enough to watch the movies I star in. I would be terribly angry with you if you weren't so damn gorgeous."

"I did see the end of one of your movies!" The blonde protested, pointing a finger from her upside down position.

"Really?"

"Of course!" Quinn did her best to sound offended "Your masterpiece! You were playing this little girl who was lost in a fantasy world where mad hatters were having tea parties."

"That was a short movie based on Alice in Wonderland, which I did when I was still in school!"

"I've seen all of it."

"It was 15 minutes long!" Protested Rachel.

"My point still stands. I saw it from the beginning to the end!" She clicked her tongue, knowing it was a matter of semantics and yet she was right.

It was nice to start being comfortable enough to joke again, to be funny and, more importantly, it was nice to have her (friend/mate/lover?...) Rachel back.

She missed being able to be light and a little naive like she used to be when they were younger. Rachel had been the first person she showed that side of her, the first one to see that Quinn Fabray wasn't just a cold hearted bitch but a real human being, with fears, insecurities, and a weird sense of humor.

And even if now Quinn had to almost force herself to be playful, she was glad to see she could still be. Maybe, just maybe, she wasn't doomed to be a sad, gloomy person for the rest of her days.

"God, I just hope no journalist, reviewer, or critic will ever question you about what you think of my work, it could ruin my career letting the world know that you don't know a thing about what I do." She pointed a finger mimicking Quinn's gesture. "When I will get my Oscar nomination there will be crews outside our house, knocking at our door with their mics. And all of it will be live, so you'd better be prepared, or at least learn how to lie convincingly."

"If you'll get your Oscar nominee, of course!" Quinn played, turning her head to the screen, fighting to keep her smile under control.

She loved how Rachel was able to bring the her old self back to life.

Like an archaeologist Rachel had wiped away the dust of all those years she had lived as a slave; slowly, careful not to ruin anything, she scraped away the filth of time. Sure, she surfaced new bumps and scars wich were previously well hidden beneath all those layers of dust, but she wasn't disappointed when she found them out, nor did she try to cover them again or, worse to conceal them so she could be a fake new object again. No, none of this. Rachel treasured them, knowing they made her what she was, that they were part of her too.

"You should have been an archaeologist." Quinn said, lost in her thoughts.

"What?"

"You should have been an archaeologist!" She repeated louder, turning to look at Rachel's face.

"Oh, ok, so now you're saying the reason you don't watch my movies is that I act so terribly I should have actually chosen a different career?" She tried to act pissed off but it only made Quinn burst into a laugh. "You're unbelievable. I need to schedule an appointment for you with my fan club. I'll sent out an alert on the web, I'm pretty sure there is some 'Rachel Berry's amazing acting worshiping class' out there. There should be!"

"Ok, ok, I give up. No classes, please!" Quinn raised her hands surrendering.

"Will you watch a movie I starred in until the end?"

"Yep."

"Tonight?"

"Yep." confirmed Quinn.

Rachel looked down, narrowing her eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Press play, Miss Berry! If that is what it takes, then I will watch every romantic comedy you might have done."

The brunette smirked. "We'll see about your resolution, then!"

To her credit Quinn watched past the half time, which was a lot more than she usually did, but when Rachel's character run under the rain to confess her love to the one and only who had tamed her heart, Quinn's breathing was even and relaxed, her eyes closed and her mind was traveling in the mysterious world of dreams.

"Figures!" Rachel smiled.

She thought about shaking Quinn from her dreamy state and giving her a reprimanding look; or just waiting for her to wake up naturally, and giving her the reprimanding look; or faking to have fallen asleep too, and see if she'd confess. But she was feeling too good and happy, just seeing her Quinn sleeping like that. Quinn was beautiful, and Rachel felt privileged just to have the chance to see her like that, just like she had felt privileged when they were teenagers and Quinn showed Rachel her fears as well as that playful side she hid so well.

* * *

"Can we go somewhere?"

Quinn had been claimed for about two weeks now, and it still felt weird. Not just because sometimes she woke up in the middle of the night, not knowing where she was, with a fear that paralyzed her limbs and chocked the air out of her lungs, no. It was mostly because she was afraid of what Rachel was doing to her. The more she spent time with the brunette the more she got back being the one she was before, and that couldn't be healty.

Old Quinn had been hurt more times she could count; old Quinn didn't have a plan; old Quinn was a stupid kid who thought she knew better when, really, she knew nothing at all. New Quinn couldn't let that surface again, could she?

No, of course not. No way!

"Where do you want to go?" Rachel asked propping her head up on an elbow.

And now the new Quinn was lying on the bed next to Rachel, confused, torn between her sense of self preservation she developed and the need to give Rachel something back, something to show her how much she appriciated what Rachel did, the way she treated her. The way she loved her.

"I wanna go for a walk with you." Quinn mirrored her position.

"We can take a walk, maybe go to the park and..."

"No, I want to take you somewhere."

Rachel tilted her head surprised by Quinn sudden change of mood. "Oh! Well, ok, I guess we can go wherever you want."

"And how would you feel about sleeping outside?" Quinn asked.

"Like, in a motel?"

"Like under the stars."

"Oh God!"

The blonde faced the ceiling. "Ok, never mind."

"I didn't say I wasn't coming, Q." It was the first attempt Quinn made to propose something and even if she was asking to go to hell and back Rachel would have agreed to that. "I just said 'Oh God' as in 'Oh-God-I've-never-done-that-before-is-it-gonna-be-fun-I-certanely-think-so'. And before you ask, yes, all of that was implied in my 'Oh God'. I'm an actress, after all, and I do convey strong intentions and meaning to the most simple words."

"And do you have some baggy pants? A lousy shirt? A backpack?" The blonde resumed asking.

It was a welcomed change in her attitude, a little bit commanding, like she used to be, proactive, misterious. Were the sad and uncertain days over?

"Probably. Somewhere in the closet, I think."

Quinn sat on the bed, legs crossed, facing Rachel "And would you come with me?"

The brunette was definitely interested by now, she sat on the bed too "Quinn Fabray, are you asking me out on a date?" She asked narrowing her eyes.

The other woman hesitated and Rachel kicked herself mentally for that. Quinn didn't like to put feelings into words and neither did she like to make them official. Stupid, stupid Berry, always moving too fast, always getting ahead of herself.

"I guess I am."

Rachel looked up at a nervous, fidgeting Quinn.

"In that case now more than ever" she began softly "yes, I'll be absolutely glad to go with you wherever you want to take me."

Quinn blushed, smiling. "Thanks."

Ok, maybe it wasn't the Quinn she used to know, maybe that Quinn didn't even exist anymore after so many years, but something of her old self remained in this Quinn 2.0 and it was slowly coming back on surface.

* * *

They drove for almost two hours. Well, actually, Quinn drove. While they were putting their backpacks in the car Rachel handed her the car keys.

"What are these for?"

"These are called car keys, Quinn. You put them in the car, turn on the engine, and this thing with four wheels magically moves."

The blonde grunted and Rachel laughed, putting her arms around Quinn's neck and dragging her close enough so she could kiss her cheek. She was so unusually happy and full of energy that she felt she could push Quinn a little and joke with her.

"Come on, grumpy. When was the last time you drove something?"

"It was long, long ago, Rach. I'm not even sure my license is valid anymore."

"They won't stop us. And if they do I'll take the blame, ok?" She placed the keys in Quinn's hand, closing her fingers around it. "I'll be the perfect passenger, I solemnly promise I won't tell you to slow down, or speed up, and neither I will gasp when you will hit the brakes."

"Do you assume I hit the brakes hard?"

"I kind of picture you as the sportive driver, yes."

Quinn rolled her eyes and walked silently on to the driver's seat.

She found out that cars were a lot like bicycles: once you've learned how to ride you can't really forget it. Unfortunately bikes and cars were different when it came to roads. She could remember taking a few shortcuts the last time she went there, while working as a pony express, but those were roads she couldn't take with the car and so a trip that was supposed to last little longer than an hour, turned out to be almost two hours long.

"Next time we bike!" Quinn said getting out of the car she parked in a lay-by along the road.

"Where are we exactly?"

"Away from the city."

"Yeah, I got that. Where exactly is this_ 'away from the city'_?"

"It's called The Tower. Well, that's not the official name but it's what people who live around here call it."

"The Tower huh? Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna regret this trip?" Realizing what she had just said Rachel ducked her head in disbelief: it was true, after all, that her mouth was quicker than her mind and it always said thing that she was going to regret a moment after they left her lips. "I mean..."

"It's a three hour hike." The Blonde didn't look like she paid too much attention to her comment. "You're gonna be tired, probably, but you won't regret it."

"Ok." Rachel smiled. Maybe Juliet was right all along. She had to stop treating Quinn like an impaired child. She was more than able to handle things on her own, even her casual and unintended missteps along the way"But before we start, are you going to tell me why we're here? As an incentive, you know, to start this climb."

"Once we're up there, I'll promise." Quinn handed Rachel her backpack and took her hand starting to walk up the trail.

* * *

"We should have brought a tent, what if it starts raining?"

"Look at the sky Rach. It's crystal clear."

Quinn lay on the blanked they put on the ground, one hand tucked under her head and the other holding Rachel's. Above their heads there were just vast black skies, with thousands of small white lights shining through the infinity of the universe.

The climb had taken more than the three hours Quinn announced before, but it was probably due to Rachel's frequent stops and lack of practice. She was in good shape, but climbing up a mountain trail wasn't something she was used to doing. When they finally made it to the top, though, she was rewarded with a stunning view of the valley in front of them.

Quinn prepared a spot for them laying a blanket on the grass and they ate, hungrily, the sandwiches they had prepared at home. It had been a quiet and beautiful dinner. Rachel didn't talk much, in part because she was tired, in part because she was trying to catch as much as possible of this new Quinn she was facing. The blonde seemed to be beaming, so relaxed and happy as Rachel has never seen in a long time. If that was what it took for Quinn to be happy Rachel would gladly climb the highest mountain every day of her life.

After eating they lay down on the grass, the sky was getting darker and darker above their heads, and after a while Rachel felt Quinn's fingers slip in her hand, and squeezing lightly. It surprised her because that simple gesture felt more confident than anything Quinn had ever done before. Not that she wasn't trying, she was, and she as trying hard, actually, maybe too hard, and every time Quinn touched her first it felt like something she was imposing on herself. It was stiff, and unnatural.

But not this time.

Rachel was glad Quinn was trying to move forward at her own pace, and she wasn't going to push or pull anyway, so she just held her hand letting things be.

Soon she was so relaxed that her mind started to wander, taking in the nature surrounding her, and, for the first time in her life Rachel Berry felt the infinity of a whole universe above her head. Her mind traveled over the sky, through the atmosphere, up to where the air faded into emptiness, and far above that, where there were galaxies with thousands of stars bigger than the Earth, and farther than that, to places so far away that the earth disappeared into nothing behind her. For the first time in her life she realized that Rachel Berry, the Great Rachel Berry, was really just a particle of dust in the everything that was out there. She felt dizzy and she squeezed Quinn's hand.

"It's beautiful, indeed. Frighteningly beautiful." She whispered.

Quinn nodded in silence, knowing very well what Rachel meant.

"I found this place when I worked as a courier." She said softly. "Back then they gave me out of town deliveries and I used to speed up crazily so I could have a little time for myself on the ride back. My boss knew it was my thing, and was lenient about it. Besides, I was the fastest one anyway so, I guess, he just gave me the longest and farther runs because it was better for the both of us."

Rachel was listening carefully: Quinn had never been the one to talk that much and she was obviously trying her best to open up to her. It was a huge step ahead and she was so proud, proud of Quinn for finding the strength to do it, and proud of herself too, for having pushed the right buttons at the right time.

"I used to sleep out here every time I could." The Blonde continued. "This place always gave me an incredible sense of freedom, with all this space around me and no one to check or control me: I felt like I had no one to respond to but myself."

She smiled lightly letting her mind drift back to her first time on the Tower.

* * *

_The first time she saw that place it was during the ride back home after a two journey ride she had taken to deliver a jewelry box. It was quite common, for slaves like her, to be trusted with valuable packages because, as her boss explained to her on her very first day on the job._

_"Unlike dominants and other slaves on this job, troubled slaves like you have to wear tracking devices, which made it impossible for them to run or steal things. I'll always know where you are, Fabray!" He had added the last part with a threatening tone and a finger pointed at her face._

_Back then she was still the kind of girl who didn't think about the consequences. She knew her tracking device would make her deviation obvious to her boss but she didn't care. She was a free woman, and free women make their own decisions. Or at least that's what she told herself._

_The climb up the tower had taken her about three hours but the view and the feelings that place gave her were absolutely worth it. From up there she could spot the cities and all the towns that, one after the other, lead her sight almost to the sea, hundreds of kilometers away from there._

_She lay down on the grass, just happy to be there, a free woman, in that beautiful place, and soon she fell asleep. When she woke up it was the early in the morning. She was so used to sleep in the cold at the camp, so the temperature drop during the night didn't even wake her up._

_She jumped on her bike, knowing that she had just a few hours to get back to the base failing her curfew call after her delivery, and ran down the hill, taking crazy risks as she cut all the curves and took the racing line._

_It was dangerous, and thrilling, and when she did make it back on time (with five minutes to spare, actually) she was smiling like she hadn't done in quite some time._

_She left the signed receipt at the desk and went to the locker room to change and have a shower, but when she started to take off her jacket she heard her boss's voice:_

_"Who do you think you are?"_

_Quinn turned around but wasn't fast enough. He showed her against the lockers and she hit them hard with her back, ending up on the floor. Two other couriers who were there exchanged a quick look before running out of the room._

_"What was that for!?" She tried to get up again but he stepped with his foot on her knee throwing her back down again._

_"Maybe you're too dumb, girl, so I'll explain it to you once again: you take the package, bike to your destination, smile at our client as you deliver the package, and then you return back here."_

_She looked up at him, tugging a lock of hair behind her ear, with the calmest and most relaxed expression she managed to pull off._

_"I delivered the package and I'm back here on time."_

_He moved closer. He was at least double the size than her, taller, a body you could easily mistake for a professional football player._

_"You took a detour to the Tower." He hissed. "Did I tell you you were allowed to?"_

_"No." She winced as his foot pressed even harder on her leg._

_"So?" He removed the foot and squatted down to be at her level. He was clearly expecting an apology and the promise to never, ever, do that again, but he got a different answer._

_"I wanted to go there."_

_"You wanted?" He laughed at her. "You wanted?" He repeated lifting up his eyes to the ceiling. "The whole world doesn't give a fuck about what you want; we don't care. Nobody cares!" He grabbed her shirt and lifted her up with no effort at all. "You do what I tell you to do. No personal initiatives. Do another stunts like this and you're heading back to the camp. Do you hear me, girl?"_

_When Quinn didn't answer he made her hit the locker once again. "I said, do you hear me girl?"_

_"Yes." She winced but her eyes stayed locked on his._

_"From now on if you stop along the road when you're not supposed to, I'll send the officers after you. I don't care if you're dying, if you have to take a piss, or if you want to fuck a nice guy you met by the road. Anything slightly irregular and you're done!"_

_"Ok!" Quinn was angry now. She didn't like to be scolded like a child. She grabbed David's hand and pushed it away._

_David smiled wickedly at her. "Watch yourself girl!" He pointed his finger at her. "You don't want to piss me off!"_

_The next days he made sure to keep a close eye on her. He made her work twice as any other couriers in his company, giving her impossible time schedules, cutting her times, yelling if she didn't make it in time, making her go through the worst parts of the city, in repetitive short runs he knew she hated. He made her go through the most guarded blocks, knowing very well Central Direction officers would stop her every now and then to check her papers and schedule , and that would make her all the more nervous and edgy and some of those days David made her work so late and called her in so early the next morning, that she didn't even bother to go home. She just borrowed a blanket and lay down on a bunk bed that the couriers used to take a nap on every now and then._

_During those days the only thing keeping her from blowing it all up and going back to the camp, was knowing that Santana would have been the one to pay the highest price if she had to do it. As her emergency call and guardian she would be the one to face the authorities in her endless efforts to protect her; she would be the one to ask and do favors, just to make her have a more lenient sentence._

_She couldn't let that happen. Not again._

_Lucky for her there were a few people who seemed to know what she was going through. One, of course, was the Latina. When she heard of her stunt and the possible punishment, she made it a point of honor to be home every night when she came back, even just to grunt an "about time" and then leave the house after checking she was ok and still out of trouble._

_And then there was her guardian angel at the company, an Asian girl, so shy and reserved that she barely spoke at all, but that was always there with a smile, and when she saw Quinn boiling up with too much rage and anger, she would walk up to her, to remind her that:_

_"He's an asshole, but his anger fades away quickly. Just a few more days, Quinn. Hold on."_

_The Asian girl, Tina, proved to be the closest thing to a friend she had in a long time. Except for Britt and Santana, of course, and... _Her_. But She wasn't part of the picture anymore, and she was never meant to be part of it in the first place. There was just Quinn. Quinn, Santana and Brittany. And now, Tina too._

_Quinn started to rely on her back in those days, on her quiet presence, on the coffee she always brought her in the morning, after she slept on the bunk bed. She was way too submissive and obedient for Quinn's taste, but she knew how to have her way._

_"You shouldn't stand up to Karovsky like that." She told Quinn during one of their rare chats "He has a huge weak spot and if you know how to play it smart you can get everything you want."_

_And, as Tina explained to her, his weak spot was his slave._

_His boy was a nice, kind soul, or so Tina described him. A skinny boy with eyes as shiny and big as a toon character, who could puke at the mere thought of violence or bullying. And David Karovsky had fallen in love so deeply for him that he would never risk doing something to upset him._

_"Simply be nice to his boy.", Tina told her, "Befriend him, and once he knows of your existence he would never let David cross the line with you."_

_Quinn could use advice like that, and she could use a friend like Tina, who showed her how to get what you want when you're a slave but, unfortunately for Quinn, Tina's destiny was elsewhere. Or better, with someone else._

_Just three months after her arrival at the pony express company Tina was happily claimed by an Asian guy who was so sweet and loving with her, that it would have made Santana Lopez puke in disgust._

_By the time she left, though, she taught Quinn the basic know-how of how to survive in David Karovsky's company. She did befriend David's boy who, by the way, turned out to be a nice guy although a little too chatty and self-centered, and through him she got the non spoken permission to sleep at the tower when she passed by it._

* * *

"I guess what I liked most, though, was the space." Quinn gestured to the large plane surrounding them. About a hundred feet from them, trees and plants gave way to a large meadow, framing the grassy open space."I've never been fond of enclosed, limited places" She confessed "I thought I learned how to handle them but the last few months proved me wrong."

She licked her lips closing her eyes. Rachel's hand tightened her hold on Quinn's hand. Quinn never really talked about what happened to her while she was "not public property". Every now and then some references slipped out when they talked, and although they were never explicit or very clear, they gave Rachel a partial idea of what her girlfriend went through that time: the pain and the isolation she faced; the mind tricks they played on her.

"It drove me crazy, Rach. Being confined in the dark, trying to get out, not knowing, not seeing, not hearing anything but my screams. I pushed and punched with my hands and knees on that... coffin, I swear it was a coffin, I scratched till my hands bled and my head went dizzy from the lack of air, and I thought I was dying right there, buried alive, I..." Quinn's voice cracked and she swallowed. She could still feel the filth falling down on her skin, the raw wood against her shoulder blades, the pain in her knees as she tried to kick her way out. There were still times, at night, when she woke up in the dark and felt her heart jump to her throat thinking she was buried again. "I can't really stand enclosed places anymore, enclosed places make me sick. Even the house feels likes it's closing in on me after a while."

Rachel turned her head in the dark. She didn't know that although, now that she thought about it, it would explain few things, like why Quinn spent a lot of her time in the garden, or why she took every chance she got to get out of the house as soon as she could. Before that evening Rachel had thought that was just her behavior or maybe a sign of nervousness but now she knew better.

"That's why you wanted to come here."

"Yeah, I needed air, a lot of air, but it's not just that." Quinn turned her head to face Rachel "I've seen how much you've done for me in the last weeks. Don't think I haven't noticed just because I can't say the words out loud."

"Quinn you don't need to..."

"Yes, I do. I should! I have to!"

She rolled over to her side, popped up on one elbow. She was nervous, worrying her lower lip while her eyes avoided Rachel's as much as they could. She parted her lips a couple of times, as to speak, but she never made any sound. Rachel wanted to move, maybe place a hand on her arm in a reassuring touch, but that was not the right thing to do in that moment. Whatever Quinn wanted to do, or say, was her decision and didn't need a push. Not even a gentle one.

The blonde closed her eyes, taking a moment to steel herself. Why was it so damn hard? It was a simple phrase, and a very good one, so why in the world was so difficult to open herself up to Rachel?

She thought that being in a familiar place, where she spent some of the most peaceful moments of her recent life, would have helped her, but it wasn't enough. She thought of calling it off. She could wait a little longer, right? Till the time was right. But no, she couldn't. She had waited way too long, so much, in fact, that she was being ungrateful and untrue to the only person who showed her what love was.

She leaned over, slowly. Her hair dangled down over Rachel's face as she stared at her lips and, without knowing, she licked her own. She closed her eyes. Rachel didn't dare to move, too afraid that even a flinch could shatter the moment. She waited and was rewarded when finally Quinn closed the distance between them gently kissing her. Quinn parted her lips claiming access to her and Rachel fought the instinct to grab Quinn's head and pull her down even more. It was a wise choice because, when Quinn finally pulled back to breathe, she lowered her head next to her ear to whisper what Rachel had longed to hear for so long.

"I love you Rach."

Rachel couldn't help but smile. With trembling hands she reached for Quinn, cupping her face. A tear escaped as she moved forward to capture Quinn's lips again, in a soft kiss.

A huge knot melted inside her and a new wave of confidence and happiness washed over her. Rachel Berry was used to words, she used them and threw them around with such hurry that she rarely stopped to fully think about their meaning. But Quinn wasn't that talkative. Quinn meant every single word that left her lips. And hearing her say those three words mean everything to Rachel. It was the gates to Happiness opening for them.

She felt Quinn's mouth trail down her jawline and neck, licking her skin near her pulse point as Rachel's neck arched, offering her even more space. Rachel's hands moved up to Quinn's head, tangling in her hair and pulling her back up so their mouths could meet again. She had wanted this for so long that, for a moment, she failed to register how different Quinn's kiss was. She let her go and Quinn went back to kissing her neck and quickly moving down to her chest.

There was nothing wrong in what she was doing, but Rachel started to notice that it was not as it was meant to be. Quinn's actions were methodical. Heartless.

"Quinn?" The blonde didn't seem to hear her. "Quinn?" She called again.

This time Quinn's head rose up and Rachel could see her face. Her expression immediately changed into worry.

"Baby? What...?" Rachel tried to hug her but Quinn moved away, hiding her face and the tears staining her cheeks.

Slowly Rachel sat up. She had no idea what was going on with Quinn or what got her so upset. "Quinn?" she called to her softly this time, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok sweetheart. You don't have to do anything."

"No, it's not ok!"

Quinn hated that situation and she hated herself: she was supposed to know how to control herself and her feelings, so why the hell couldn't she do it when she wanted the most?

"You don't understand Rachel!", Quinn tried to explain, "I want to, I really do, I just... _can't._", she finished lowering her voice. Quinn closed her eyes trying to hold back the tears.

She thought that on that hill she could finally let herself go, but she was wrong. She wanted to make love to Rachel, there was nothing more she wanted to do than kiss that body, feel their skin touch and Rachel's moan under her fingertips, but it didn't matter how much she wished and longed for it, still, every time they kissed, every time her hand moved to Rachel's hip, Quinn's mind drifted back to the days when she had to satisfy the dominants just to get through her claimings in one piece.

"I'm sorry, Rachel, so _so_ sorry." Quinn seemed to be stuck, repeating over and over the same apology.

"No, don't be." Rachel slid her arms around Quinn's waist. That wasn't the night she had hoped for when Quinn started to kiss her. For a moment she though Quinn was over her issues and, instead, here they were, more real than ever.

"It feels so wrong, Rach, It feels like I'm servicing a domme and... I can't, I'm sorry... I..."

Rachel pulled her closer. It was a gesture to comfort Quinn but also to hide all the feelings that she knew were evident in her face. It hurt her hearing those words, hearing from Quinn herself that she still couldn't think of her as just one person, her lover _and_ her owner, but instead that she kept on seeing two separate personas. She could only try to imagine what Quinn was going through, but she couldn't really understand it. She didn't feel any different when she was with her girlfriend or her slave, simply because they were the same person. Quinn, instead, kept on acting differently when she thought she was with her owner than when she thought she was with Rachel.

Rachel had thought that keeping her domme side under strict control Quinn's transition would have been easier but, once again, she was wrong. Or maybe, she just underestimated the extent of Quinn's problem.

"You told me you love me today. You realize that you never said that before?" Rachel spoke softly in Quinn's ear, moving her hand down her back in circular motions.

"Such a lousy girlfriend, huh? It took me years just to admit it!"

"No, I won't let you indulge in self pity, Quinn Fabray. You just made my day and I'm not letting you ruin it! Look at me." She raised Quinn's face so they were looking at each other. "I love you, Quinn, and I'm proud to have you by my side. I'm proud to have a place in your heart and I think I'm going to brag about how the amazing Quinn Fabray loves me for the rest of my days!"

Quinn chuckled and for a moment… but it was a short relief.

"I do love you Rach, I've always loved you, even when I was too stupid to say it out loud. I wish I could prove it to you."

"No need for that. Of course," she added, "I want to make love to you, but we'll do it when it feels right, Quinn."

"I'm so sorry, Rachel, so..."

" Quinn, stop. " Her voice was soft but it didn't left any doubt that, for Rachel, the argument was over. She dragged Quinn down on the grass again, and lay with her, spooning her. She left Quinn the privacy to cry and to be with her own thoughts for the rest of the night, but she never let her go, keeping their bodies together, so that Quinn would understand that everything was ok. That they were going to be ok.


	6. Red Carpet

**Back again. I left you for a while but this is a longer chapter and I hope this makes up for the long waiting (and if it's of any consolation my wonderful beta is already checking on the next two chapters). ****Thanks again for all your reviews, favorites (yeee, 100 thx guys!) and alerts. **

**From now on things will get complicated. Up untill now it was just Rachel and Quinn, but they do live in a world with rules and laws and I believe that this will strain their relationship. I foresee problems, arguing and fighting ahead of them...**

**Happy Valentine's day to everyone!**

* * *

Quinn was nervous. She had been ever since Rachel found the invitation in her mailbox, after they went on their little trip to The Tower.

They went out to have a nice week end together and, although it didn't turn out the way Quinn planned, it had been a fairly decent time spent with the woman she loved, up until they came back home to find out that Rachel's network was throwing a party in three days.

The occasion for the event was the launch of the new season, and Rachel's show, with its rating, was one of the ones that the big bosses wanted to promote more. Rachel had tried to dismiss the invitation; she knew that attending meant Quinn's presence would be required and she didn't want that. Not yet.

"Too much pressure, Quinn. We can wait." She told her.

"But you want to go."

"It's just a party, nothing big. Besides, if I don't go I will be missed, it won't go unnoticed and it might actually be good for my image, you know?"

"Sure." Quinn mocked her "You'll become the spoiled brat of a diva. What an image to have."

"And here I thought I already was!" Rachel tried to light up the mood, leaning into Quinn to steal a kiss from her. The Blonde complied letting her forehead rest on Rachel's.

"I can do it Rachel." she whispered. "You don't have to protect me."

"It will be our first official date out. Lots of people, lot of reporters, cameras..."

"Probably, yes."

"Maybe we can choose something more casual as our first time. Less crowded."

"You love the crowd Rachel."

"I do." She admitted smiling.

"Then we'll go."

And so, there they were: on the red carpet.

She saw it before but it was just a photo in magazines or a TV special and all that kind of stuff. Being there in person, though, was a totally different experience.

Photographers were aligned, yelling here and there, flashing toward Rachel and her co-stars. Behind her there was a tall wall with logos of the sponsors and the different shows running for the final award. Staff members in a black shirts supervised the event, trying to ensure that every photograph had their chance at a good shot, gently pushing actors toward the next interviewer, were they gorgeous women in shiny dresses or funny men with weird hair. How could Rachel stand all those hands touching her? Pushing her everywhere, all those voices calling her name, the lame questions, repeated over and over.

"So, how's your relationship with Misha?"

Like she was gonna say that Misha was a selfish bitch and they couldn't stand each other.

"She's amazing, and so funny. She's always the first one to joke around." Aka: she's a bitch who makes fun of everyone with no respect whatsoever. "Very professional too, she has such insights on directing the episodes, and she can always give a good advice." aka: she pisses of our directors every single day because she thinks she knows everything better than them, and I think the light guys tried to kill her once but I'm not sure so I'm not gonna say anything about it. "I really am lucky to be working with her." aka: the network included a clause in my contract and I'm always happy to work with whoever I work with.

Fuck reality, this was the showbiz.

Quinn smiled to herself shaking her head. She was the lucky one tonight, having the chance to stay just outside the red carpet, waiting for her Rachel to join her and go to the party.

Her Rachel.

That word still sounded strange as she turned it around in her head. _Hers. _Was she really? Wasn't supposed to be the other way around?

"Are you ok?" Rachel touched her arm.

Quinn nodded, placing her hand over Rachel's. She was feeling strangely nervous and confident at the same time. She looked up at all those people wondering if they knew who she was, if they were just waiting for her to slip and fuck it all up again, embarrass Rachel in some way, and she felt like her own bowels were dropping to the floor, draining all the blood from her veins. But then Rachel always came up to her, to catch her gaze, and in those moments Quinn felt like falling into her eyes, irresistibly drawn to her. And the rest of the world disappeared.

"Come, let's go inside." Rachel took her hand leading the way inside the building.

* * *

It didn't take much for Quinn to understand that the party was meant to be a show off. They were in the ballroomof a nice, classy hotel, with a fountain in the center. Nice, classy women, sat waiting for their nice, classy men to bring them a drink. She knew most of those people if not personally, at least for having seen them in the magazines. There were many actors whom Rachel worked with, some of the network's showmen; a couple of comedians that never really made her laugh, not even when they were broadcast live for the mandatory annual comic show on all the TVs. And the ones she didn't know were briefly introduced by Rachel as they stood close, shoulders almost touching, in a secure corner of the room.

"That one's Dick. Name and all, actually. He's not bad, just stupid. And that one over there is Laura." She said pointing out a middle aged woman with white, white hair. "You don't want to mess with her, she's a total bitch. Next to her - that's my big boss, his name is Eric. He owns the network and even if he's not directly in any board, he's the one you have to charm if you want to keep a stable job. See? Worn out comedians are already on his tail."

"So, is this your new girl?"

A noisy woman walked towards them in a glitzy dress gray as her hair. A man, of average high, average built, average face plus a black beard, trailed a step behind her.

Rachel saw the potential slip of acknowledging Quinn as her property and doged it by simply introducing them to each other: "Quinn these are Lizzie and Dean, the official PR sharks of the whole network. They made up every flirt I needed to get to where I am now."

Lizzie smiled proudly. "I had good material to work with," the woman said barely payingattention to Rachel as she circled Quinn, studying her, appraising her body.

"Very beautiful indeed, Rachel. Good choice."

"Thanks, I guess. I think I'm very lucky."

She put her arm around Quinn's waist, affectionately. Her intentions were genuine but she understood, immediately that her gesture wasn't received well. Quinn must have interpreted it as the brunette claiming possession over her slave in front of a new dominant, and she reacted shifting her weight from one foot to both, rising her chin just enough to make it clear she was her own persona, an individual and not a possession who would keep her eye low at any given time.

It was a subtle changing but one that was not lost to Rachel. She knew she needed to make things right before it was too late because, once Quinn's mood was settled, it would be virtually impossible to switch it back, especially in front of so many people. She needed to act fast.

Ignoring Lizzie and Dean she stepped in front of Quinn, placing both hands on her hips and waiting for Quinn's eyes to focus on her. When they did she smiled and kissed her cheek, lingering enough to whisper to her ear a simple "Are you ok?"

That simple, caring gesture, brought Quinn back. She nodded lightly and thanked Rachel with the ghost of a smile. Rachel knew Quinn was not ok but at least now she was back in control.

Rachel slid her hand in Quinn's interlacing their fingers and squeezing it gently before turning her attention back to Lizzie and Dean.

"Oh, aren't you two cute," the woman commented with fake amusement. "Playing the lovebirds. I could work miracles with this image. I could get you a couple of roles in romantic comedies if I just make a few calls to some magazines and have them snap pictures of the two of you like this. This is the good stuff, first page material even."

"I don't want the tabloids after us, Lizzie."

"Ok, you want to have some time to yourself, I get it, I'll give you one more week."

"I said no."

Lizzie tilted her head looking directlyat Rachel for the first time. "Are you serious?"

"No magazines," the brunette repeated, "period."

"This is stupid. They will come after you eventually. It would be in your best interest if this appened in a controlled environment, don't you think?"

"I think we're ok the way we are. Now, excuse me, I'm hungry, so I will go get something to eat."

She moved past Lizzie and Dean still holding onto Quinn's hand.

* * *

"Still with me?" Rachel searched Quinn's gaze giving her a glass of water.

The blonde nodded quietly. She was still scanning the room, trying to brush up her skills in cataloging the people, but there were really too many strangers to evalutate in there and she couldn't focus on one long enough to get a clear idea. She felt overwhelmed and on the verge of acting out on those feelings.

"I know this is not the best setting, but I promise you we'll go as soon as it is sociableyacceptable."

"I can handle them. I've been watched before, in worse situations." That sounded more like a mandatory answer than a real one. Quinn had to be tough, ('had to' being key in that phrase) for herself, her reputation. She had to be stronger than ever because she was Quinn Fucking Fabray.

Rachel knew Quinn was feeling the pressure and getting more and more nervous and anxious by the minute. She tried to ease her discomfort taking her hand but it felt rigid and tense; her mind was else where, trying to analyze all the people at the party.

Coming to the party was definitely a mistake; she didn't consider the situation as a whole. It was too much and too soon for the both of them to handle.

She tried to catch Quinn's attention by cupping her cheek, but even that simple gesture made her flinch.

"Fine, that's it. We're going." Rachel decided, in fear they had gone too far.

"No." Quinn stopped her. "It's not sociably acceptable yet." She tried to smile but her efforts weren't that convincing.

"Let them talk, I don't care. Besides I'm getting bored so..."

"No." Quinn repeated, this time so firmly she actually convinced herself she meant it. She didn't want to be the one to ruin Rachel's night. "I just need some air."

"I'm serious, we can go." Rachel offered again.

"I'm serious: we can stay!"

Rachel stared at her for a couple of moments and then nodded. "Cross the room and head for the bathrooms, there is a small hallway with a green door on the left that leads to the back yard. You should find all the quiet and the air you need there."

Quinn thanked her with a light smile and then turned around looking for the door.

"Nice catch you have there, Berry." A woman remarked walking by her as Quinn left to go outside. Rachel didn't even turn to talk to her. She closed her eyes; another one of her colleagues and another front she had to put up in front of them, braving their questions and insinuations.

"Hi Stephanie."

"I am sorry, Berry, but I don't get it: she's way out of your league."

Steph was one of the executive producers of her show and she didn't know the meaning of small talking. She was a very busy woman and way too worried about everything to simply enjoy life. She was actually the very reason Rachel always kept looking for something more, because she didn't want to end up like her, living just for her job, leaving behind her a great impression on the world but no real meaning in the lives of the ones around her.

"Actually I think Quinn and I are the only ones who play in the same league. Everyone else just doesn't come even close."

"Oh, come on, now you're just bragging!" Stephanie answered popping the olive from her martini into her mouth.

Rachel couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, I guess I am a little bit. I'm very lucky to have her, that's for sure."

"But still, how could you handle her? Not to doubt your dominant's skills but, come on, I've seen her, she's a wild animal."

Hearing that Rachel's expression changed and she suddenly became very serious. "Well, first of all she's not an animal," she said straightening her shoulders, in a posture her producer knew too well as the I'm-a-step-away-from-going-psycho-Berry-on-you, "and second, she's not wild either. She's just very strong-minded, which I think is actually a plus."

"Fine, whatever, she's your problem now. Or your pleasure, as you might like." She added.

* * *

Fresh air on her skin. Quinn breathed deeply as she closed the door behind her back, leaving all the glances, the whispers and oh-so-subtle talks behind.

She rested her back on the wall and closed her eyes. God, it was more difficult than she thought.

It was a chilly night, the sky was covered with dark clouds threatening to start with a noisy storm really soon. For a moment Quinn imagined herself sitting on the floor, while the rain would pour over her, soaking her wet. She found herself praying for it, for the rain to fall, because there was something liberating about that, as if the water dripping from the sky could wash away your worries, your tiredness, your fears.

But of course, she wasn't that lucky. She was not entitled to wish, or pray, or beg, for the relief of rain on her skin. She was just a slave, after all, as everybody at the party kept reminding her with their looks and whispers.

"Fuck!" she ran her hands into her short blonde hair messing it up. A voice in the back of her mind warned her that Rachel would probably frown at seeing her hair like that, and then she would try to make it look better tucking itbehind her ear or something. Well, then fuck Rachel too.

No. Not that. That wasn't fair.

Quinn sighed letting herself slide down until she sat on the ground.

She knew the brunette wasn't doing it intentionally, quite the opposite as a matter of fact, but still every time Rachel touched her, on this night, it felt like a claim in front of the other dominants. It felt as if she was marking her property in front of her peers.

It felt so different than when they were at home. When it was just the two of them Rachel's touch felt warm and reassuring but now, in front of all those people...

"Knock it off Fabray!" She told herself, but the feeling still lingered inside. It was stupid, really, she knew Rachel wasn't that possessive with her, and yet she felt it in her gut and couldn't shake it away. Why in the hell did she agree to come to this party?

Once again Quinn's mind went back to the previous days, when Rachel did her best to make her feel loved and cared for, when Rachel showed her respect and patience, when Rachel put up with all her weird mood swings, and her silence. She owed her at least an honest try at this; it was the least she could do.

The door opened and a man joined her in the garden. He didn't see her at first as she was still sitting on the ground with her back to the wall. He walked out with his hands in his pockets and looked up, studying the sky.

"Do you think it will rain?" He asked surprising Quinn. He turned around giving her a warm smile. "I like rain."

He was a good looking man, with dark, curly hair. He must have been around her age, handsome, in his own way, although he wasn't really her type. "My name is Blaine Anderson." He extended his hand keeping it in mid air for a while, waiting for Quinn to take it, which she didn't. "You can call me Blaine." He said putting his hand back in his pocket.

"Why would I even want to talk to you?" She looked up at him cooly. She was never the girl you could hit on so easily.

He didn't answer, giving her a sly smile, and his reaction made Quinn curious. Quinn took a better look at him: he seemed harmless at first look but then, if you took the time to study him a little better, you could notice little details like his straight posture, or that glint in his eyes, and you would know there was more to him than met the eye.

He sat down on the ground, with his elbows on his knees, next to her but not as close to make her uncomfortable. "Everybody is looking for you, you know? Quinn Fabray."

"You know me?"

"Everybody knows you. They were talking about you even before you and your owner showed up at the party: you're sort of the guest of honor, I guess."

"Well, you and everybody else can go look for another guest of honor, for all I care. I'm not a fucking freak show."

"Wow!" He raised his hands apologetically "there's no need to lash out on me like that. I'm just an observer, pretty much like you are."

Quinn frowned at that sentence. She was an observer, but how in the world would he know that? Have they met before? Again Quinn tried to take a better look at him and again she had the feeling there was something, just beneath the surface, that she didn't quite recognize.

"I do it too, hell, probably every slave in the world does the same exact thing to some extent. Some of us are better at it, but I think every single one of us tries to study people around to see what's in store for us. Call it self-preservation instinct, if you like."

"You don't look like a slave."

"Why, because I don't have bruises like yours?" His eyes darted down at her covered arms like he knew that, beneath the sleeves, there still were yellowish bruises from the days before the claim.

Again the phrase that popped into Quinn's mind was "what the hell?" but she tried to conceal her surprise: she didn't want him to know that he was making such an impression on her. He didn't seem to buy her act, though, and lowered his head, as if he wanted to give her the time to recollect herself before cvontinuing the conversation. "It's the way you move," he answered the unspoken question, "it's not that evident but I guess a trained eye like mine notices more things than the average person. You're a little stiffer than you should be if you were 100% ok, and you move slowly, gracefully" he added lowering his tone "but still slower than usual. At first I thought it was because you were uneasy in this environment, but then I realized it was not that simple."

"You seem to have been watching me a lot."

"I did!"

A distant thunder echoed in the sky, capturing Quinn's attention. The sky was completely covered with clouds by now and the chances of a rain weren't so farfetched anymore. A mild, cold wind started to blow in their direction, bringing the storm closer to them and making her shiver.

"And why do you have a trained eye Blaine Anderson?" Quinn asked returning to their conversation.

He didn't say anything right away but kept his eyes on the sky for a while before finally answering in a soft tone. "I just do."

Quinn's senses tingled and she tensed, not buying his lie. "How come that I don't believe you?"

He raised his head looking straight at her. "I mean no harm to you, Quinn." His voice was so soft and intimate that it caught her by surprise.

"Then what do you want from me?" she asked.

He got up and wiped away the dirt from his pants. "I just wanted to introduce myself" his voice was back to normal again: secure and confident. "And I wanted you to know that not everybody, in that room," he pointed to the closed door, "is judging you or waiting for you to slip. You've got people cheering for you too."

Quinn frowned but before she could come up with a coherent comeback he spoke again.

"It was a pleasure meeting you." He bowed, smiling at her. "Maybe we will have the chance to meet again."

"What? Hey, wait!" She got up as quickly as she could but Blaine was already back in the ballroom, making his way through the crowd.

* * *

Despite everything Rachel Berry could hardly hide her pride. It was not the idea of having claimed the Infamous Quinn Fabray (although, to be completely honest, the diva was pleased by the admiring looks she got from dominants all over the place); she was proud because she had a beautiful woman at her side, a smart woman, a brave woman, a woman she loved with all her heart and made her feel complete like no one else.

"So, how did you break her?" Asked Mark.

He used to be one of the factotum on the show, part time dancer, last minute actor, bodyguard when needed, mail man, phone man and official coffee dispenser; until Darren, one of the producers, claimed him and made him his personal assistant. Mark was one of the few people on the show that Rachel could really consider as a friend. He was a little over the top, at times, but he was always honest with her, through the bad and the good times. Too bad he wasn't able to keep a secret for long.

"That's none of your business Mark."

"Oh, come on!" He pleaded "Are you saving the story for some magazine? I promise I won't spill before it's published!"

"I don't want my relationship in any magazine, hence I won't tell you a thing. It's already complicated as it is, I don't need to add more shit to that."

"Ooh, dirty talk! That's unusual, Rachel Berry. What's on your mind?"

"Nothing."

"You know you can act but you can't lie, so stop pretending and just tell me what it's going on."

Mark took a canapé from a tray while the waiter was hurriedly walking towards the tables.

"I'm just worried, this is our first time out after the claim and it's a big thing."

"Well, what can she do to mess it up tonight? It's a formal occasion, you let her free to wonder around, you obviously aren't leashing her, not literally and not metaphorically... she will walk around like a social pariah for a while, trying to hide in corners and be as invisible as she can, while people will stare at her and stare at you, whispering fantastic tales about your claiming. I can totally imagine what they would say," Mark continued stopping a young waiter to take another canapé. "Who would have thought the little Berry had the balls to claim that Painslut" he said mimicking a female voice "I knew the diva was skilled with the whip but that Fabray has such an high pain tolerance, how could she break her?"

Rachel looked away, angry. She knew Mark was right, she could almost hear the words passing from mouth to mouth, about her and Quinn, about the claiming. She should have thought better about this, make up a cover story to sell to everybody, but she didn't really think it through, hoping that she could just play the shy dominant who got lucky. She didn't take into consideration that Quinn's reputation was well known and everybody, in that room, would know about her. It was a strange situation, really. Usually, every time she had a partner, was it real or fake, she was the famous one, the one who got all the attention and the curious/doubtful/agressive/mocking looks. But this time it was different, in this ballroom people were more interested in Quinn than her, and it was the blonde who had to deal with all that unwanted attention. She mentally kicked herself. She should have seen this coming. What the hell was she thinking bringing Quinn to this place just like that? There was too much pressure and she was starting to get a bad feeling.

"I've heard the blonde is scared of dark, closed spaces. Maybe she caged her..." Mark was still pmimicking voices, lip syncing two women to their left as they were speaking and sneaking not so subtle side glances at Rachel.

"Can you stop?"

"Why? You know this is what they're saying."

"Well, I'd like to pretend I don't know about it, ok?"

"God, you're so tense, chill out, will you? Here, take this" he handled her a flute full of champagne.

"Not a good idea. I'd better be in control of myself tonight." She said putting the flute on the table but Mark quickly handled it to her again.

"I won't let you get drunk, I promise, but you'd better relax a little, or people will start noticing your weirdness and will gossip even more."

Rachel took a sip scanning the room for Quinn. She was on the opposite side of the fountain and, just as Mark said, she was trying to lay low but to no avail. All the eyes seemed glued to her figure.

"Did you beat her?" Mark asked out of the blue.

"What? Are you serious?"

"You got her wearing long sleeves, I thought it was to hide the bruises." He explained emptying his glass.

"I didn't make her wear anything, she chose something she was comfortable in. That's it."

"Fine," he raised his hands in the hair, "don't get mad, I was just wondering."

"How could you even ask me something like this?"

"Oh, come on Rach, don't pretend you never used whips or chains on anyone. It was a fair question. Besides don't tell me you never used a whip on her, I wouldn't believe you anyway."

Rachel bit her lip thinking about the claim, the kneeling Quinn and her red back, the clamps on her nipples.

"I did what I had to do to have and keep her trust." And it was true. Rachel didn't regret anything she did because, in the end, it turned out to be the right thing to do. "But that's not what she needs now. She's had more than her fair share of that."

Mark wanted o reply then thought better and decided to sip some more champagne melodramatically.

Rachel sighed. "What?"

"What, what?"

"You do that when you want me to know there's something you want to tell me and you know I won't like it so, ok, duly noted, you've played the good friend and tried to save me from the harsh truth, now spill it."

"I was just wondering what exactly is your plan, Rach?" Mark moved so that he stood in front of her, cutting out Quinn from Rachel's view. "I get that you want to go easy on her because she's had enough, and I'm not saying you're wrong, but what do you think will happen now? Do you think she will just gracefully submit to you? Because I might not know her at all, but I'm telling you right now, that spark in her eyes? That is as far as submission as you can get, Rach."

"We will be fine." Rachel's voice didn't sound so sure.

"Inside your house, maybe, where you're free to do as you please, but in the outside world you're supposed to be able to control her."

Rachel worried her lip nervously. Mark was right, damn him.

The chubby man saw Rachel's concerned look and almost regretted his words. "Oh, baby girl, you know I didn't say this to bring you down, right?"

"I know."

"And I'm positive you're gonna figure it all out eventually, but I don't want you to fool yourself thinking everything it's going to be fine on its own because that's not how the real world works, babygirl."

"I know, I know, it's just..." Rachel looked for the right words "Have you ever had a moment of such pure happiness that you were afraid anything could ruin it? Have you ever seen any movement, any word, any though as a deadly danger to your perfect state of mind, to the lightness of your heart, to the calm that keeps your soul balanced and stable?"

"Yep."

"Just like that? Yep? I wax poetically about existential happiness and you..."

"I've been happy, Rachel," he interrupted her, "I know how it feels and how scary you get at the thought of loosing what makes you feel that way. I've been so happy, Rach, I would have frozen the whole universe just so I could stay like that forever. But life is not meant to be static, life runs and pushes and pulls and screams and happiness doesn't mean anything on its own. It's all about the journey to get there, the obstacles you overcome, the people you meet along the way, the mistakes you make, and the right decisions you take. Happiness is about getting the things you want, not just having them, and if you just stop at the moment you think it's perfect, for the rest of your life, perfection would simply fade away as you stare at it."

He closed his statement chewing the last bite of a minipizza he took who knows when.

"When did you become such an insightful philosopher?"

"I always was, babygirl, it's just that I like being an asshole better." He smirked getting the last canapé on the table behind them.


	7. The touch

**Before we start, this short chapter, just a just a few quick things that I want to say after reading your comments (thanks again, btw).  
****No, Rachel won't beat Quinn into submission and she won't give her an ultimatum, good and healty relationship don't work like that in my opinion, but yes they are going to deal with the fact they are mistress and slave. It will be a long process that will go on for some chapters, but it basically starts with this one here.  
****And yes, Brittana will have its space and I have already written a special chapter "Brittana's story" that, more or less like Sam's story, or Rachel Berry's story in claimed, will give you some insights on their life. Also Britt will have a little more space because I believe in balance and, up until now, she was just a background character. So expect to see more of those two in the next chapters.**

**And now, second part of the party, here we go!**

* * *

"Look who's here."

There was a time, back in the days, when Quinn thought she didn't fear anything, but that was a long time ago. Throughout the years she had learned that there were many things that scared the hell out of her: needles, being buried alive, losing Santana and Britt, ... Him.

Raphael prowled circling around her. The moment she sensed his presence Quinn instinctively tensed. Her mind screaming, begging her, really, to keep a low profile and do everything it took to keep him calm, but she kept repeating to herself that he held no power over her, anymore, and she didn't have to be scared or, worse, to show him her fear.

"Isn't it the famous Quinn Fabray," he stopped in front of her, "I thought you were dead, girl."

Quinn's mind was petrified. She should have been racing around, trying to find a way to escape from that situation, but instead she was simply staring at him, breathing a little heavier than normal.

"Lower your gaze, girl."

* * *

_"Lower your gaze, girl!" His hand pressed to her head, forcing her down. Her arms were stretched upwards, and behind her back. Her legs were going to fail her soon, she was going to be hung just by her wrists. How many hours left for the claim attempt to end?_

_She prayed God to just let her faint and escape from there._

* * *

But she wasn't tied up, that day, and he couldn't claim her or hurt her anymore.

"I don't belong to you." It was the first time that she used her status as a weapon to defend herself against unwanted attention, and she used that thought to give her strength. Biting her lip in a resolute expression, she raised her chin higher.

He smirked, amused by her defiance. Then, with a sudden move, he grabbed a hold of her hair and pulled down to bring her to her knees.

"You still owe me respect, girl!"

Quinn fought back. She clenched around his wrist with both hands and twisted it until he let go and she could step back.

"Don't. Touch me." she hissed coldly.

"What's happening?" Rachel got there from the other side of the room. From the corner of her eye she had seen Raphael grabbing Quinn and she rushed over as quickly as she could.

"Is this your slave?" Raphael asked loudly, never breaking eye contact with Quinn.

"She is."

The crowd around them fell silent, by then. Almost everyone attending, including the network executives and all of Rachel's coworkers, were gathered near the fountain watching the scene. Quinn looked like a cornered animal ready to attack and Rachel wasn't sure how long (or if) the blonde could control herself, so she stepped between them, breaking their eye contact and forcing Raphael to look at her.

"I'm asking again: what happened?"

Raphael took a few deep breathes, straightened his back, relaxing his posture. He knew this had moved to another level, and physical confrontation was not on the plate anymore.

"You really have no control over your slave, miss," he refused to acknowledge her by name, "she doesn't show proper respect to dominants and she dared to touch me without permission."

Someone, in the crowd, started murmuring.

Rachel's eyes darted around, trying to evaluate the situation. Too many people had seen what happened and she could see Misha already smiling and whispering to the third floor secretary. God, this was going to be in the papers before the end of the evening.

"I apologize," she said coldly, "and I will take care of this."

Rachel turned wanting to end the conversation but Raphael wasn't finished yet.

"I doubt that!" He said louder, forcing Rachel to turn and face him once again. "Since you obviously failed at training your slave on the most basic of behavior, I don't see how you could you properly punish her after what she just did."

"This" Rachel tilted her head on the right letting her cockiest smile blossom on her face, "is none of your concern, sir. She's mine to deal with."

"You don't have control over your own slave," he yelled at her while she grabbed Quinn's forearm dragging her along, "you're not capable of dealing with her, you're an excuse and an embarrassment for any true dominant, Berry!"

"Your opinion is duly noted." she waved her hand in the air as she moved toward the exit door. "Contact customer service if you want to leave more feedback on my domination skills."

* * *

Rachel let go of her arm only as they entered the cab, heading home.

They were sitting side by side, on the back seat, in a tense silence. Quinn guessed Rachel was really angry with her, but she was adamant in her decision: she was not sorry for what she did, she would do it again, and again, and again, till the end of time if she needed to. She would never, ever, let Raphael lay a finger on her. And if that brought consequences, well, fuck the consequences, fuck Rachel, fuck the whole world! Until her very last breath she was not going to show that man an ounce of submission.

The driver stopped the car in front of their main gate. Rachel was staring out of the window and she didn't seem to realize they have arrived at her place. She was lost in her own mind and that, Quinn, thought, was not a good sign.

"Miss?" the driver called out.

"Uh? Oh, yes, sorry." She paid the man.

"Do you need me to walk you to the house? It's starting to rain." He offered.

Rachel looked at the droplets on the cab's window. "No, thank you, we're fine." She got out of the taxi, followed by Quinn.

The raindrops were small and light but the sound of a thunder, a few miles away, announced it was going to get worse soon. With the aid of the flickering lights of the street lamps Rachel looked for the house keys all the while avoiding any eye contact with Quinn. She hadn't acknowledged her existence since she let go of the blonde's arm. When they finally made it into the house the rain drops were getting thicker outside, and the storm was quickly approaching.

Rachel put down her purse on the table at the entrance and slowly took off her jacket. Quinn took off hers too. She was moving slowly, delaying every movement, so she could study Rachel and try to guess what was coming next, but the other woman was so quiet and silent that the only feeling Quinn got was that something very wrong was going on.

Finally Rachel went to sit on the couch, letting her head fall on the back and rubbing her eyes with her hands. Quinn realized she had a choice: either she would quietly climb upstairs and hide in the bedroom, and then Rachel would probably let her go and they would sleep in different rooms for that night, leaving them to talk about this for another day. Or she could face it right now.

She straightened her back and walked into the lounge, sitting down on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Rachel didn't move. She heard Quinn coming in and she spoke with her eyes still closed.

"I asked you, Quinn. I asked you more than once."

"I know."

"I told you we didn't have to go."

Quinn didn't answer, she grasped the table looking at the floor. She had to give that to Rachel, she had failed her. Rachel had been very clear about that, she made sure Quinn didn't feel forced to go in any way. That it was all Quinn's decision.

"You assured me," Rachel went on speaking, "that you could handle it."

"I thought I could."

"You thought?"

"I've never meant to snap like that, Rachel. He got under my skin and I lost it and it was stupid, I'll give you that, but I'm not gonna say I'm sorry for what I did because I'm not."

"You're not sorry for making that scene in front of my bosses and my co-workers?" Rachel sat up looking directly at her for the first time since they left the party "for making me look stupid and incapable of handling you? For ruining every bit of reputation I earned in the last few years with just one single, big scene you put up? Are you not sorry for that?"

So, here it was, the big elephant in the room they so carefully avoided for the past weeks. Quinn looked up at Rachel, hoping to a tiny sign that there was still hope, but as far as she could see there was just a wall she could not break through. They pretended to forget what they were but, in the end, they were just a domme and her girl. Quinn was hers, a shiny prize she could brag about. A possession. Her slave.

"For god's sake, Quinn, speak up!" Rachel was yelling at her now. "Say something, anything!"

Quinn looked away and that gesture only pissed Rachel off even more.

"Fine!" She got up and Quinn side glanced at her while she went into the hallway. She heard her opening a drawer and picking up something and when she got back in the room she was holding a pair of cuffs.

Something inside Quinn broke. Her stomach disappeared along with all the air in the room, leaving her breathless. But she had been through enough claims to know better than just show her fears, tiredness or thought, so nothing, on the outside, changed.

Rachel paused in front of her, as if she was waiting for Quinn to say something, but when Quinn didn't she sighed, shaking her head, and moved beside the blonde. She put her wrists behind her back and clasped the cuffs with a loose chain on them. The restraint wasn't meant to be painful, just slightly uncomfortable, because Rachel planned on having her wear those for a very long time.

She moved in front of Quinn. "You won't use your hands until I say so." Her voice wcame out strong, stronger than she thought it would be.

Quinn didn't flinch as the cuffs clicked restraining her hands behind her back but now that Rachel was in front of her, she turned her head, slightly bending it to her side. She looked at Rachel with such anger and fiery that really hurt Rachel and made her all the angrier. Rachel turned around, breathing deeply.

"Do whatever you want just, don't use your hands." She said, and she heard Quinn leave the room.

* * *

Quinn sat on the bench, outside, trying to cool off. She could hear noises from inside the house. Rachel was in the kitchen. A plate broke, maybe a glass. Did she throw them at the wall? No, of course not, Rachel wasn't that kind of person and, besides, she didn't have the right to be so angry, Quinn was the one cuffed after all, no?

Quinn tugged, trying to break the thin chain that connected her cuffs. She wasn't really trying to escape, but some part of her was screaming, repeating for her not to put up with this crap. Rachel Berry, her Rachel, cuffed her. She finally did what Quinn always feared: she treated her like a simple slave. An object. A possession.

She shivered. A couple of raindrops hit her as the wind changed. It was not the best night to spent outside but she couldn't stay inside either. She brought her legs up to her chest and rested her head on her knees.

She lost track of time and didn't know how much it took for Rachel to join her outside. She sensed her presence on the porch, waiting by the door.

"You should come inside."

Quinn didn't answer.

"You'll catch a cold."

"I'm fine."

"Please."

Quinn rose, angry, hands still bound behind her back. "Is that an order Miss?" she hissed.

Rachel tensed. "Fine, stay here, get ill, whatever..." She ended quietly, resigned, and started walking away just to turn around after a couple of steps. "On second thought, come here!" She grabbed Quinn's arms and turning her around roughly she freed her hands. "You don't get it, do you?" she murmured struggling with the cuffs. She fumbled clumsily, being way too agitated to unlock the cuffs with the simple click that was needed. "You know everything, right? Better than me, than San, than... everyone! So what the hell, Quinn, do what you want, you always do anyway!"

The cuffs clicked and Quinn found herself free again. She looked up at Rachel but the other woman was quick to hide her face from view and walk down the hallway, slamming the door behind her back.


	8. Pride and prejudice

**I know, I know, long time no see BUT, good news is that you're gonna have this chapter and the next one in a few days so I hope this will make up for my delay. (also, know that I'm currently writing ch 15 and ch 14 is HUGE, like... 11K words huge so... you know... I'm really making my fabulous beta Dee work hard ;)**

**In this past month I've received some comments and massages and, although I think I've already said this somewhere, let me repeat it again because I want this to be very, very clear. Guys, please, I know BDSM in real life is based upon consent I would never dream of saying otherwise, but the world where claimed and raised are setted is a dystopian universe where consent is auspicable but not required. In my stories I try to describe some aspects of what I consider a good BDSM relationship, maybe I do it right, maybe I don't, and it's ok if you don't agree with me on what I think it's a good relationship within this world; but please, let's agree that claimed and raised are based on a fictional dystopian and extreme universe and neither I (or my stories) pretend to be some sort of manifesto for real BDSM relationships. ****There are a lot of people out there who can talk to you about real and sane and funny BDSM relationship, so if you want a REAL picture please, ask them :)**

**Also, let me thank Solen who's helping me re-edit and correct Claimed. (WOW, still so many mistakes in that fic...) and again (I'll never say this enough) to all of you who read this story and take time to comment. Thank you guys!**

**See you in a couple of days for the next chapter **

* * *

Rachel sat in her car and started the engine. She didn't have a place to go, but staying at the house, with Quinn, was not an option. She was angry, hell, she was furious, but she was also very tired. Tired of always being the one who had to compromise, to understand, to give up something.

She drove without any particular destination in mind, just to get as far as possible from her house and from Quinn. It was past 4 o'clock when she reached the blinking traffic light in the middle of town, near the theatre. The streets were empty except for a few patrolling officers who looked at her through the window and, recognizing her, tipped their hats in a silent greeting. She turned right realizing that her seemingly aimless driving was actually taken her to a very specific place.

She parked on the street and opened the black gate that was always left unlocked.

"Figures." She said to herself, knowing too well how her friend never thought of the dangers outside.

She reached for the door and hesitated there. It was late, she was probably sleeping, it would have been rude, to say the least, to wake her up.

She walked a few steps back and looked up to her friend's bedroom windows, on the first floor. She picked a small rock from the ground and threw it at the wall near her bedroom, hoping to wake her up.

"Three times," she said to herself. "If she doesn't open the window by then I'll just go."

The first rock hit the wall with a soft *thump*. The second one slipped through her fingers while she was throwing it and ended on the glass with a weird parabolic trajectory. Rachel held her breath for a second, fearing the glass would shatter any moment. It didn't, and she picked up the third stone to throw it with more force, just on the wall, but again it didn't get her any result.

Rachel looked back at the street, seeing part of her car through the gate, then back again at the window.

"Last one, I swear." she told no one in particular. She picked up another stone and again she aimed at the wall. It collided with the wooden surface with a loud *thud* that rose the attention of a dog in the garden to her left.

He barked, annoyed at the presence wich ruined his sleep, and while she was trying to reassure the dog that she was in fact a good person and not a burglar, a sleepy Juliet opened the window and looked down.

"Rachel?"

"Oh. Hi."

"What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

Rachel tried to think about a polite and credible explanation, but before she could come up with any, Juliet spoke again.

"Were you throwing stones at my window? Cause I was dreaming about a lame teenager lover who wanted to serenade me and caught my attention that way!"

Rachel smiled. Juliet had always had the weirdest dreams.

"I'm sorry, it was a bad idea, I should get going."

"Wait!" Juliet sighed, rubbing her eyes, "I'm coming down."

"So, I take it you were not just passing by at 5 in the morning, right?" Juliet was making some hot tea for herself and Rachel. She put the kettle on the stove while taking out a box full of tea bags with different flavors.

"I needed to see a friendly face."

Juliet turned around. Her hair was combed into a loose ponytal and she was wearing a pink tanktop and gray pants that were her favoruite PJs. She walked over to Rachel and cupping her cheeck she gently lifted the brunette's face.

"Are you ok, babe?"

Rachel sighed, enjoying the feeling. It had been a while since someone took care of her and she longed every soft touch she could get. Quinn didn't touch her like that. She had her reasons, and she was trying, so Rachel couldn't hold a grudge for that, but still, a loving touch, a real touch, was something that she missed.

She swallowed hard, trying to hold back the tears.

"No."

"What happened?"

The kettle on the burner let out a highpitched whistle and Juliet turned around to grab it and pour the hot water in their cups.

They sat silently for a while, soaking the teabags and looking at the water as it got darker.

"It was always so easy with you." Rachel spoke first, putting a spoonful of sugar in her cup.

"What?"

"Being with you. You always seemed to get me, every thought, every wish."

Juliet put a strand of hair behind her ear. "And Quinn doesn't get you?"

"We fought," Rachel explained. "...sort of."

"Sort of." Juliet repeated. "Care to add some more information to that statement?"

And so Rachel started talking about her and Quinn, about how things kept running at different paces and she fought hard just to stay on the same page with the blonde. She told her about the party, and Raphael, of course, and her reaction when they got home, how Quinn failed to understand what she had done and how badly she reacted when Rachel cuffed her.

"Wow." Juliet sighed.

"Right?"

"No, honey, that was a sarcastic wow. It doesn't mean I agree with you."

Rachel looked up from the cup she was still holding in her hands.

"I was wondering when it would happen. You two arguing. To be honest I though it would happen sooner. You kind of surprised me there." Juliet said sipping from her tea and glancing up at Rachel.

"You expected this?" Rachel questioned, surprised.

"Of course I was expecting it, like any other person with a little bit of sense in their head would. Ok, don't get me wrong, Rachel," she raised her head sensing one of Rachel's long ramblings was coming on, "I know you two love each other, even a blind person could see it, and love is a good thing to have in a relationship but it's not enough to make it work. "

The pouty face she got in return made Juliet smile.

One of the things she loved about Rachel Berry was that she could be incredibly deep and incredibly childish at the same time. She could be subitly insinuating you're a dumb ass with the longest phrase ever pronounced and than, a second later, innocently asking you what was a 69. (_"Oh, that? How come an image of two human bodies interlaced and having a sexual intercourse remind of a stupid number... oh [slight blush] I get it now... but it doesn't change the fact that it's still a silly name!"_)

"I'm going to ask you again, Rachel: what are you doing here? Really."

When she used to have a hard time, at work or with one of her fake flirts for the magazines' sake, Rachel Berry went back to her house and opened Juliet's door, going into her room. If Juliet was sleeping she would wake up because of the light entering her room, and if she was simplyiresting she would get up and walk over to Rachel to cup her face with both of her hands and kiss her.

Their kiss would quickly become hungry and passionate and Rachel would often bite her, marking Juliet as hers, while they would make love over and over again.

It seemed so long ago.

"Go back home, Rachel." Juliet stated quietly.

"I can't. Not now."

The redhead sighed and moved away. Rachel heard her pacing around the house but she didn't turn. She was still trying to handle the idea of her arriving there just to fuck Juliet till she couldn't move anymore. Was she really like that anymore?

"Here." Juliet said throwing a pillow and a blanket on the couch. "You can sleep here if you want."

Rachel nodded, without saying a word.

"Tomorrow it will seem easier, I promise." Juliet kissed her temple goodnight and left for her room, leaving Rachel in the kitchen, sipping the last tea in her cup, staring blankly at the ceiling, knowing that sleep, that night, was not really gonna be an option for her.

Morning came way too early for Rachel who had just fallen asleep on the couch when Juliet came down the stairs and into the kitchen. She was trying to be as silent as possible, but after a few minutes a tired Rachel showed up at the kitchen door.

"Hey there. Sleep well?"

"No really."

"Headache?" Juliet asked.

"Yep."

"Here, I thought you might have it so I came down prepared." She threw a box of aspirins on the table.

"You know me so well." Rachel said, popping one pill out of the box. "Remind me again: why aren't we together anymore?"

"Because you don't love me."

"Really? I'm pretty sure I have feelings for you."

"Yes, and they're called caring-for-a-friend. With the occasional sex involved."

"Ah! Is that what they're called?" She played dumb. "Kind of a long name."

"Come on, eat something so those pills can work quickly. I want you in your right mind if we have to talk."

"Do we?"

"Look, I get that you love your sparring routine in the morning; getting your debate skills in line for the day ahead, but I have a job and I'm actually required to show up for it, so I don't really have time for this. Can we skip this part?"

The reminder of the new life Juliet had hit Rachel. She was right, she was not her assistant anymore, she worked for a new dominant, the one who was probably going to claim her likely sooner than later.

"How is he? Your new dominant I mean."

"Eric is fine. Gentle, funny, a little bit jealous but I like that."

Rachel nodded. "Are you happy?"

"Yes."

"And do you love him?"

"Love is such a heavy word to use, Rachel."

"Still... do you love him?"

Juliet smirked. "Probably, yes. But it's too soon to tell."

"I wish you well, you know that, don't you?" Rachel felt the need to apologize. She was well aware that for a lot of years she kept Juliet bound to her even if she always knew she didn't love her. She had given up on love and thought that Juliet was the best she could achieve: friendship with benefits, which was not bad, but it was not great either.

"Don't do that." Juliet lifted her head to look her in the eyes, knowing where Rachel's mind was wandering. "I didn't regret anything."

She quickly pecked her cheeck to reassure her, and then went back to cooking breakfast.

"So, how about we start that due conversation?" She resumed. "I had this question on my mind all night, it kept bouncing in and out of my conscience. It's something that I don't really get." Juliet began looking for biscuits in the top cupboard.

"What is it?"

"You said you were angry when you came home last night, right?"

"Of course I was. She just ruined my reputation in front of all my co-workers."

Juliet ignored her lash-out. "And you knew you were angry, so why didn't you wait until morning to sort it out? You know better than to act as dominant when you are like that."

"It was her choiche, actually. She came to me. I was hoping she would go straight to the bedroom, but when she came to me things got out of hand."

"Why didn't you just told her you were going to talk in the morning?"

"I don't know," Rachel hesitated, "I guess I was just really angry."

"Wrong answer."

The brunette stared at her. "Sure, how could I forget that you know my feelings better than I do."

"As a matter of fact I do, Rach, and I do know that you weren't angry. It's just that your pride got hurt and you couldn't handle it."

"It so not like that."

"Of course it is. You don't like to admit it but you are very proud Rachel. You glow when people compliment you, and you can't help but show off when you know you do - or have - something special. You fought to get where you are now both as an actress and as a dominant, and when Quinn jeopardized your position with her behaviour you had to prove to yourself you were someone worthy of that reputation you got. So you acted blindly, imposing your control over her, without considering the consequences."

Rachel shook her head. "It was not like that."

"It was."

"No!" She repeated loudly. "I'm not some egocentric brat. I'm..." her voice trailed off. Was she? Did she act out of her pride only? Did she forget the basic rules she always imposed on herself? Did she really fall that low? "Shit!"

"Look," Juliet took her hand between her own, "you made a mistake, she made a mistake; consider it even. These things happen to a couple, especially to a new one. You still have to settle down."

"We're not a young couple." Rachel objected.

"Yes you are. What you had in school is a nice memory and, sure, the feelings might still be there, but you're two grown up women now, you have lives, jobs, friends, experiences... in other words you both have a past and you have to deal with it."

"I know that."

Juliet's tongue clicked in frustration. "You keep saying that, Rach, you keep repeating that you know but I don't believe you."

"I'm not stupid, ok? Proud? Fine, I might be, but stupid? No way!" Rachel was getting worked up and it was barely 8 in the morning. Her head pounded and the aspirin she took was taking its sweet time to kick in. Fucking lazy pill. "I know she has issues and I can work it out."

"Sure, it seems to have been working just fine up till now!" Juliet whispered, leaning on the sink with a biscuit in her hand. "And besides, I was not talking about her, I was talking more about you!"

Rachel stared at her, bewildered. "Excuse me?"

"Yes little princess, time to face the truth. You chased after Quinn for more than ten years and now that you finally have her you can't stand the fact that she's not like your perfect fantasy."

"Chased after her? You seem to forget that I gave up on her. I was living my life. With YOU."

"No, no, don't even try to play that card with me, missy, I love you too much to let you hide anymore in your lies. You know very well that you never gave up on her. Quinn has always been a consistent presence in your life. You mourned her loss every single day. You idolized her. She was your princess, your soulmate, your one and true love. You dreamt about her, about how you two could reach the perfect balance. You pictured yourself to be her savior. And don't try to deny it!"

It was true. Even when she gave up on the thought of getting back into Quinn's life, Rachel always hoped, in some part of her mind, that the two of them could find their way back together.

"You were the one who pushed me to look for her."

"Of course I was. I cared for you and I still do. You were obviously in love and it was the right thing to do. I didn't lie to myself like you're doing now. I never pretended that we were something different than what we were, Rachel, while you seem to have lost contact with reality and you keep on living in your own fantasy."

A strange silence fell between them.

"You never spoke to me like that before." Rachel said softly. Juliet was her closest friend, the one she could always rely on, the one that never betrayed, the one that never pretended, the one that always got her back.

"You never gave me a reason before." The other woman answered quietly.

"Do you want me to feel guilty for what I did to you? Is that why you're saying all these things to me?"

Juliet sighed, sitting down at the kitchen table. "We always knew we weren't 'the one' for each other, Rach, and as I told you many times I don't regret anything. Besides, you should really stop thinking that the dominant is the one who carries on the relationship, because it's actually the slave who does it. I wouldn't have done anything if I didn't wanted to do it, so stop acting like you forced a bonding on me. We were fine. We cared for each other and we were amazing in bed!"

Rachel chuckled. "We were."

"Outstanding!" Juliet smiled "And take comfort in the thought that if you career ever hits rock bottom you could always come back to me and we could make some pretty awesome porn movies." She joked.

Rachel laughed and that moment made her loose control enough to let a single tear slip down her cheek. Damn. It was just eight in the morning, for God's sake!

Juliet reached for her, brushing away the tear with her thumb. "Look, babe, it's going to be alright as long as you don't carry the weight of this relationship just on your shoulders. Talk to her, stop smothering her like she's some unempaired child, because I'm pretty sure she can hold her own. Let her know what bothers you. She might know it but she needs to hear it from you. And, for the love of God, stop pretending with each other that you're not mistress and slave and talk about submission, or this thing will eat both of you alive."

A light knock on the back door interrupted their chat and a blonde man walked in without waiting for an answer.

"Hey honey."

"Uhm." Juliet placed a hand on his chest preventing him from kissing her. He frowned and just then noticed the other person in the room.

"Oh! Rachel, hi! I didn't see you."

Rachel waved her hand with an embarrassed smile. She met Eric on the set. At that time he was working as a cameraman but throughout the years he went through a lot of jobs: security, assistant director, secretary, gardener (yes, even that), cook, and handyman for unknown tasks in the costume department.

"Am I interrupting something?" He eyed Juliet who smiled back at him.

"Girly morning chit-chat. We talked about nail polish, what's the new black this season and the eternal dilemma: boxers or briefs? I voted for boxers, just so you know. Tiny, stretchy, black boxers."

He hugged her dragging her closer. "I'll keep that in mind." He pecked at her lips, smiling. "Do you need a ride to work?"

Juliet looked back at Rachel sitting at the table. "Give me five minutes, will you?"

He nodded and waved his hand at Rachel on his way out of the kitchen.

The brunette took her clue to leave. "I should get going."

"No." Juliet stopped her. "You should go take a long bath. Sleeping on the couch doesn't do wonders to your beauty, honey." Rachel sniffed supressing a smile. "Then you will rehearse a nice speech as you always do, and you will look for the right words to say to Quinn when you will go back home. You will find a perfect elaborate way to tell her that you're sorry, and you will reharsal so it will be perfectly clear that you two need to start over. You will not take all the blame for what happened, and you will not let her take all the blame neither. You will both be responsible and act as grown ups for a change."

"Yes miss." Rachel smiled.

"Good girl." smirked Juliet approaching her and embracing the shorter woman in a tight hug. She held her until she felt Rachel's head relax a little and lean on her shoulder. "And if she doesn't get you, or if you fight again, you can always come back to sleep here on my couch. Ok?"

Rachel tightened her hold. "Thank you" She whispered.

"I will always be here for you, babe. Remember that!" She kissed her on the head and let Rachel slip away from the embrace. "I'll call you later, ok? And in the mean time consider this your own home. Do whatever you want."

Juliet took her jeans jacket from the hanger near the door and blew her a kiss before heading off to work.


	9. It was once a perfect day

**As promised chapter 9 is up (and it's also longer than my standard chapter wich I think might be aplus, right?). I felt like I negletted one of my favorite characters, Santana (and doing so I negletted Brittana too) so, you know, this time they're both back and they will have a major role in the next few chapters as well as in the end, but that's far ahead... **

**Hope you enjoy, and if you have time let me know what you think!**

* * *

Santana tuned off the radio in her car. The constant voice of the speaker and some random singers were distracting her from her rage and worries and she didn't want that. She wanted to be angry, although she didn't know at whom to direct her anger.

Should it be Brittany? Maybe. And it would have been fair since it was all her fault, right? Her fingers clenched around the wheel and someone honked at her. She politely told him to go fuck himself sideways.

That morning started in the most wonderful way. Brittany was sleeping by her side, hugging her, and she had this quizzical look on her face as she was dreaming one of her crazy dreams. She was stunning, innocent, and funny even while she was sleeping; she was the only thing she wanted in the whole world, the one she loved more than her own life, the one she always loved. Her one true soul mate.

Since Quinn's claiming Santana though a lot. There were no obstacles anymore in the way of her claiming Britt and she really wanted to make it official. It was just a matter of time and place now, because she wanted to do it in a very special way. But on that morning, seeing her girlfriend like that, all her plans vanished: she wanted Brittany to be hers as soon as possible, and screw the fancy details.

As soon as she made the decision she was barely able to contain herself. She was so happy, and so relieved, that she actually smiled all the way through her breakfast.

"Are you sure you're ok San? You look stoned."

"Sort of, I guess." She murmured sipping her coffee.

"What?"

"Nothing sweetie, I just had a funny dream."

"Really? Me too. There was a beautiful city underwater, but there weren't fishes or mermaids, just regular people who breathed through a piece of paper in front of their mouth, and I could see their lips moving, but I couldn't understand if they were breathing or talking to me." Brittany dipped her biscuit into her latte. "What about yours?"

"I'll tell you later, ok? I need to go out now." She kissed her girlfriend and took her car keys.

"Oh, San, don't forget to buy biscuits, please. I've finished them again."

"I'll buy enough biscuits to last you a lifetime, sweetie." Santana said closing the door, headed for her car.

She sang along with the radio all the way to the Claiming Office. She knew she could just send in the papers but she wanted to do it in person so she could have one of her chit chats with the employee, and speed things up considerably. But that's when a day so perfect took a turn for the worst.

Maybe it was not Brittany's fault, not entirely at least.

It was that reckless employee too, who was careless and let the screen turned halfway towards Santana, letting her see the records for Brittany's claims. There was the first one, Andrew was his name; he was the guy who tried to claim her Britt as soon as she was available. Not that he was interested in her, it was just because of a stupid bet he had with his friends.

"It was nothing!" Brittany explained to her more than once. "He's a nice guy, it looked more like a date than anything else. He was nervous and I kissed him goodbye in the end. That's it San, come on, don't be jealous."

Santana looked him up anyway. She wanted to see who had the guts to try claiming her girlfriend, but when she finally found him she knew immediately that Brittany was right. He was the gayest gay ever: no threats there, and she left him without even having to beat the hell out of him.

The second entry was anoder known name: Brad. He tried to claim her at the end of their two years, the period when dominants and submissives that have previously known each other were not supposed to meet or have any kind of contact. At that time she had no rights at all over Brittany, she wasn't even supposed to see her, so she couldn't pretend to keep other dominants away, but they made it through two years without any 'accidents' and she thought they could really make it. Until Brad showed up.

He saw B when she was working as a teacher in a kindergarten. He asked her out but she refused, so he asked for a claim.

He was not a nice guy.

When Santana went to meet Brittany a few days after that, the blonde girl was a nervous wreck. It took some effort but she finally had Britt open up to her and talk about what happened during the claim.

"I'm going to kill him."

"No, you're not." Brittany approached her. "Please, don't make me regret telling you. Please." She was begging now, her eyes filled with tears. Santana was on the verge of crying herself and she held them back just because she knew it would break Britt for good.

She never told Brittany what she did after that. She never told her how she tracked down Brad and hit his car with her own at a crossroad, dragged him out of it t and pulled his pants down, placing a sharp knife to his exposed groin.

"What the fuck?"

She hit him once, while he was still confused, and then she pressed the knife again to his balls.

"Take the money, the car, whatever you want," he said, "but leave me alone."

"I want the cock that raped my girlfriend," she hissed into his ear. "My beautiful, innocent, positive, girlfriend, who you tried to claim a few days ago and raped because she turned you down on a date."

"You're crazy, I didn't rape anyone! She's just a fucking slave and I had a regular claim, I didn't do anyth..."

Santana punched him into his side. "Don't you dare give me that slave crap! You're not a dominant, you're just a dickhead, you're not worthy of even licking her feet!"

She was onto him, pressing his body so that his back was arched on the car.

Santana Lopez was never afraid to take things to the physical level. She had her fair share of fights and brawls and was known for never backing off but, despite her reputation, Santana always knew where the limit was and she always knew how to keep control, allowing herself to go just as far as she could, just right up to the line, but never crossing it. Except that one time she felt like she was loosing it, her mind dark and clouded with rage

"You're a crazy bitch."

"You don't even know the half of it." She pressed the knife at the base of his cock.

"I-I will report you."

"No, you won't, and you know why?" She pressed down on the knife even more cutting his skin and making him wince. "Because I have friends, and if you do as much as walk into a reporting facility I will know it the moment you step in and I'll make sure that you won't step out of it the same way. Do you understand me?"

"You're nuts!"

"I am, but I'm also a very coherent person, and I keep all my promises, dickhead, so listen carefully, because I'm promising you this: go near my girl _ever _again and I will cut off your useless worm and make you eat it, I will shove it down your throat and then sit watching you bleed to death."

The message sank in and spread widely where it needed. Nobody approached Britt ever again, or at least that's what Santana thought until that morning.

Because there was a third line, and the claiming took place just six month before.

* * *

She drove to Quinn and Rachel's place because she needed her best friend. She didn't have a plan, she didn't expect any answer or deep insight, she just wanted Quinn to know and maybe tell her she was being a jealous moron and everything was going to be fine.

She wasn't mad about the claiming attempt itself, well, she was mad at the idea of someone else laying his hands on her girlfriend, but what angered her the most was that she didn't know anything about it. Why didn't Brittany tell her?

She was trying to recall the time period of the claim. She was busy, having to deal with a couple of clients with tax problems, the files of a starting enterprise and the usual stuff and, of course, the constant Quinn-problem.

Could it have been that it slipped through her fingers without her even noticing it? Could Britt have had a claiming without her even realizing she was gone for a whole day?

When she entered the house she immediately sensed something was off. It was too silent.

In Rachel Berry's home silence was not a considered option unless there was an extremely serious situation going on or if it was bed time, of course. But when she arrived it was mid morning, so there was just one possible explanation: troubles.

She walked through the hallway, calling Quinn and Rachel's names and getting no answer back. More and more worried she walked through the kitchen into the garden, through the back door, and there she found Quinn, sitting on a bench, chin resting on her knee as she hugged her leg.

"Your house get scary when it's silent, you know that?"

Quinn turned around more surprised by the use of the possessive adjective than by Santana's voice. She never thought about that place like _her _home. In her mind that was always Rachel's house, merely a place where she happened to crash.

"Where is the dwarf anyway?"

"I don't know."

"Is she at work?"

"I said I don't know San!" Quinn repeated a little louder.

"Hey, calm down girl, It was just a question." She sat down on the bench next to Quinn.

It was a nice warm day, the kind of day when you can just lay in the sun and let the world pass you by, and Rachel and Quinn's garden was a perfect place for that. It had a couple of tall trees and a vegetable garden with a few plants that seemed in desperate need for a real gardener to look after them. Looking around Santana recognized a pole that seemed a little out of place. It was the one where Rachel tied Quinn on their second claiming attempt.

A cat jumped over onto the fence and graciously walked over it, waving his ass like a professional hooker. God, do even cats want sex these days? Was that what happened during Britt's claim? And maybe that was the reason she never told her about it, because she banged some stranger and she liked it. Maybe sex between them wasn't enough anymore for B, maybe she needed something different and more exciting than Santana. Oh God, she really did need to get it off her chest!

"Are you going to tell me what is going on so we can move on to more pressing matters?" She asked, knowing Quinn's mood too well to start with her own problems right away.

"Nothing is going on."

The cat jumped off the fence and went sniffing the plants in the garden, but his nose twitched and he turned away with a look of superiority on his feline face.

"Yeah, sure. Nothing is going on, I'm the gentlest princess everyone wants as friend and snow tastes like butterflies, right?"

"Leave it, Lopez. This is not the right moment."

But telling Santana Lopez to leave it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull: you got her attention. And not in a nice way.

"God. What did you do this time?" She asked sighing tiredly.

"Why?" her voice was louder now, "Why is it always have to be me?"

"Good question." The cat turned around showing a mild interest in what was going on between the two women. "Why does it always _have _to be you, Fabray?" If Quinn thought she could play the victim that day she thought wrong. Santana had enough on her plate and no intention of letting shit be thrown at her. "Ever wondered why every time I come across a situation deep in shit I find you around?"

"Fuck off!"

"Yeah, sure, here it comes your good-for-all-times answer. Fuck the world, I'm the only one that matters."

Santana got up wich raised the cat's interest even more and he tilted his head looking at the scene. She came here hoping to find a friend to talk to, but instead she found yet another to an endless list of problems that Quinn Fabray brought upon herself and into Santana's life.

"Ok, let me guess here. You said slash did something really stupid that fucked up your relationship with Berry, right?"

"I didn't do anything."

"Oh, sorry, my mistake: you said slash did something really stupid that fucked up your relationship with Berry but you don't realize that yet."

"Go away, Lopez!"

"Why? So you can cry some more over yourself, and how lonely you are, and how nobody understands you, you poor little chosen one whose destiny turned against her."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Then enlighten me, oh mighty Fabray!"

"She tied me up, ok? She..."

"Did she hurt you?" Asked Santana with a serious look on her face.

"No."

"Then what the fuck are we talking about here?"

"She treated me like a slave!"

Santana couldn't hide an incredulous smile stretching across her face. "For God's sake, Quinn, you _are _a slave, you are _her _slave, when are you gonna understand that? "

"That was not..."

Santana shushed her with a finger. "Hear me out Fabray, because I'm going to tell you something very important. You, Quinn Fabray, are a selfish bitch!" She stressed timing every word prodding Quinn's shoulder with her finger. "You think the world revolves around you. It's always _your _pain, _your _suffering, _your _drama. Do you ever think that if a friend shows up at your house it's maybe because she needs you? Do you ever think that if you screw up with some dominants your owner is going to pay the price too, because she's the first responsible for your actions? No, of course not! You're Quinn Fabray so everything has to revolve around you! Well, guess what, fucking chosen one, you're not as special as you think!"

Santana stepped closer lowering her voice to a menacing tone. "You think you're tough and strong because you survived for ten years on your terms but this isn't being strong, baby. Being strong means compromising for the sake of the ones you love, it means bowing your head, from time to time, it means shutting up when you don't want to, and it means also giving up something if the ones you love ask you to do it." Santana turned around. "I'm sick and tired of your attitude, Fabray, you live in your own world, blind to everything else." She went for the door without turning back. "I hope in your perfect black and white world you won't get lonely too soon." She said finally as she left punching the hallway wall on her way out.

* * *

Santana Lopez didn't go home straight away. She aimelessly drove for a while, just trying to control her anger that was threatening to explode. God, she wished she knew how to hit a baseball now, so she could close herself in a batting cage and hit, hit, and hit again until she was too sore to continue.

Driving wasno good. Instead of calming her nerves she found herself stepping harder on the gas pedal, going well past the limit. She passed a school with two kids kissing on the stairs up front and cursed them for no other reason than their young happiness.

_'Calm down San!'_ she warned herself, but she knew she wouldn't listen to her own advice. Her mind was stuck in a loop, making her face again and again the betrayal of the two people she cared for the most. Was it too much to ask to be taken care of for once? Was it too much to just want someone to lift the burden from her shoulders, hug her and tell her everything was going to be ok?

"Fuck!" She hit the brakes hard when an elderòly woman crossed the street on her bike.

The woman turned around pointing a finger at her.

"Do you know what the speed limit is kid? I should report you I..." she stopped when she saw Santana covering her eyes with shaking hands. The woman got down from her bike and knocked on the car window. "Hey kid, you ok?"

The immediate danger had broken the line of her thought, but now the adrenaline rush was causing her body to shake like a leaf.

_Fuck, fuck fuck! I almost ran over that lady!_

"Look, I'm fine, really." The old woman tried to reassure Santana when she didn't answer her first try and this time the Latina rolled down the window.

"I'm sorry miss." She said apologetically. "Are you ok?"

"I'm a tough one kiddo, you didn't even make me blink."

"I'm so sorry, miss, so sorry I..."

She eyed worriedly the girl, her pale skin and the way her hands still trembled

"Shut up and get out of there, little one, you need some air." She opened the car door and helped her out but as soon as she stepped outside Santana faltered, almost falling down. "Here, sit down for a moment." The old lady took her hand, pulling her down gently.

Someone, behind them, honked and the old woman gestured angrily at him to just overtake and get over with it.

"Asshole." She muttered as he passed over, making Santana wink briefly before a wave of nausea hit her, making her groan.

"Keep your head between your knees, kid, you will feel better in a moment." She pushed Santana's head down, putting a reassuring hand on her arm. "There is no need to be so upset. I shouldn't have yelled at you, I was a terrible driver myself back in the days. I should know better."

Another car arrived and passed them by. The driver slowed down to look at them and when the woman nodded, signaling they were ok, he smiled politely and moved on.

"You know, if an old lady like me can make you feel like this, kid, you should probably work on you growing a tougher skin."

Santana chuckled. It was weird, for Santana, having someone think she was too sensitive or soft. People usually thought of her in a different way, one that went along with some of the nicknames she earned during the years, such as "The Crazy Bitch" or "The Devil's Daughter"

"I'm not that sensitive ma'am. I'm just having a very bad day." She tried to raise her head but she felt the woman's hand pushed her back down again.

"Don't be stupid now, give it a moment." She instructed and Santana complied without further complaint.

She fixed her gaze on the concrete floor beneath her, a sad smile appearing on her face. A stranger was willing to take care of her more than her so-called best friend. So maybe it wasn't her fault, maybe she wasn't so fucking unlovable as they made her feel, maybe it was just that Quinn Fabray was a fucking selfish bitch and her girlfriend a liar.

She raised her head, eyes closed, leaning on the car.

"Do you live far away from here, kid?"

"I'm not heading home." Santana answered.

"You should, you're in no condition of going to work like this."

"I'm not heading to work either. I'm just..."

What? What was she doing? Where was she going?

"Wandering around." The woman finished for her, and Santana nodded. "It's going to be ok, you know?"

Santana turned around to face her, surprised. "Excuse me?"

"Whatever is bothering you," the woman explained, "it's going to turn out ok. You're worrying yourself over nothing."

"What are you, some sort of medium or something?" She asked with an ironic smile.

"Just someone who has lived through enough to know that." She replied. "Trust me when I tell you this, kiddo. Things have their own way of working out for the better."

"And if they don't?"

"And if they don't, you grow a pair and kick their asses till they do. But it won't get to that," she smiled offering her hand to help Santana up. "Now you go back into your car, you drive up to Strawberry's park, you find a quiet place, maybe near the pond where the ducks are and, you lie down and close your eyes. You'll probably sleep for a while and when you wake up, if you're still angry, you'll go into the woods, pick up a branch and start hitting a tree until you have no more strength. And if it still isn't enough you go find a bar and you get drunk. But then, kid, then you go home and you face whatever is bothering you, ok?"

With some slight hesitation she put her hands around Santana's neck, pulling her in for a hug. "You're going to be ok." She whispered into her ear.

Santana returned the embrace holding the woman's waist. "Why are you doing this?" It felt underserved, it was a kind gesture out of nowhere and no one did something so kind wanting nothing in return.

"You're my daily good deed kid." the woman replied letting her go. "Now I get to be an asshole for the rest of the day if I want to. It's my gain."

She smiled picking up her bike and crossing the street as she was supposed to do half an hour ago.

* * *

She parked the car on the street, knowing that, if she brought it in the noise would have woken B up. It was almost 2 a.m. and Santana wasn't up for a fight with her. She just needed to sleep, and possibly to wake up in someone else's life.

She opened the door as silently as she could. All the lights in the house were off but the big windows and the glass doors let the street light in so she could easily move without tripping over anything. She was just letting the keys drop on the cabinet next to the door, contemplating the idea of lying down to sleep on the couch, when Britt appeared at the end of the corridor, hair pulled up in a loose ponytail, gray shorts and a white tee too big that hung on her shoulders.

"I was about to call the police." Arms limps by her sides B looked relived and angry at the same time as she approached Santana.

"Sorry." Santana walked into the kitchen and took a bottle of water from the fridge. She heard the quiet footsteps of Britt's naked feet on the floor. "It's late B. Go to bed."

"What happened?"

The Latina drank from the bottle, blatantly ignoring her girlfriend.

"San?" Britt tried again, "Talk to me, please." She put a hand on her hip turning the other woman around, letting it rest there, closing the space between them.

Santana's gaze was fixed on the bottle, drops of water running down from the plastic on her hand. "Not now, please."

This was exactly what Santana tried to avoid: close contact with Britt. She was still so angry, so confused, and she knew that if she tried to talk in that moment, when she was still upset, she would end up saying something she would later regret. She tried to walk past the blonde but Brittany stepped in her way, blocking her. With a single, fluid movement, she put her arms around Santana's neck in a warm embrace.

Santana was still so angry and confused that she almost fought her off pushing the blonde away, but it was only a metter of a moment; then the feeling that always came with B's hugs kicked in. That relaxing sensation, like a weight lifting from her chest, an inner peace that spread from Britt's hands to her back through her skin and muscles, until it sank in every cell of her body. She felt her rage subside, slowly, leaving an empty space that sadness came to fill in. She gave up, letting her forehead rest on Britt's shoulder.

Brittany held her, sorrowfullly noticing that Santana wasn't returning the embrace. Not out of affection, not even as a cry for help, trying to cling to her like she sometimes did.

"When?" she asked, pushing her feelings aside. The blonde could feel her girlfriend's hot breath trespassing the thin layer of her shirt warming her skin. "San?" she asked again.

"Saturday." The answer came in a low voice and Britt knew, if she didn't already, that something was really wrong with Santana.

In the last years they rarely had to resolve to the "talking truce" as a mean to calm down before saying something hurtful they would regret, and even when they did the truce never lasted more than a couple of days. But now Santana was asking not for two, not three but four days before talking to her.

"Ok." Britt agreed. Not that she wanted to, but they had rules, and rules were there to help you in moments of need and uncertainty like that. And the rule was simple: the one who didn't want to talk was the one who got to decide for how long could the conversation be postponed. Within a reasonable timeframe, of course.

"Saturday." Britt confirmed, concealing her worry with a tired smile. She wasn't happy letting her girlfriend to brood on her problems without helping her, but if there was something she had learned during the years, it was that sometimes Santana needed her space. Period. Not 'ifs' or 'buts', no question asked.

She let her fingers trail down her girlfriend's arms, down to her hand, trying to pull her along to their bedroom, and when she felt Santana resisting, standing still, she tried to convince her by talking to her like to a stubborn child.

"Come on, San, it's late and you need to sleep."

The Latina let her fingers slip from Brittany's and her arm fell limply back to her side.

"I think I'll take a nap on the couch."

"San..."

"No B, it's ok", the Latina interrupted her. "Like you said, it's already late. I want to turn on the stereo and put on some calming music. I think it will help me sleep sooner."

Britt was always able to see through Santana's lies and this time was no exception. She chewed her bottom lip. She didn't like this. Not at all.

"Ok. But please, take a blanket, ok?" The blonde kissed her cheek goodnight and walked in the bedroom barely keeping herself from crying.

* * *

Britt used to say she had psychic powers.

People laughed at that, thinking she was joking, and when they realized she wasn't, they looked at her differently, like she was a nut job. The only one who always believed her was Santana.

"It makes sense", she said to her when Brittany first told her about them. "I always thought you were magical, somehow, it just seems to fit that you have psychic powers or something."

Santana was the first one, probably the only one, who truly believed her.

Britt was convinced she inherited her powers from her cat, lord Tubbington, for two reasons: first, he always seemed to know when she was sad and he would always crawl in her lap, purring and rubbing his mug over her, to comfort her; second, because Lord Tubbington himself told her so when he came to her in a dream, a few days after he passed away.

Truth to be told, though, her powers didn't manifest until she started to feel something for Santana. Lord Tubbington, who had a habit of showing up n her dreams by then, told her Santana was her trigger, that the feelings she had for the girl were the ones that let her powers manifest at its fullest.

It was weird at first, when she realized she could literally see the other's feelings in shapes and colors, but she got used to it pretty soon. She was able to see the bright yellow of Santana's lustful thoughts shining through her eyes, and the purple pain that Quinn tried to hold back pushing it back behind her hard facade.

When she told Quinn she could see her pain, like literally see it, the other girl had tried to rationalize it.

"You're an emphatic person Britt, it means that you can feel the other's feeling, you know what's on their mind, you can tune in to their emotions. It doesn't mean your cat gave you superpowers." But when she saw the hurt look on her face she retracted. "Or, you know... maybe you have powers, I don't really know Britt. There are so many things our minds might do. You might have psychic abilities or you might be a new stage of human evolution for all I know."

Britt still smiled at that thought. Like if human mutants could exist. That was pretty silly from Quinn but still, she had decided to trust her and that was important for Brittany. That was what friends did for each other.

Her ability was stronger with the people she loved. That was the reason she was always able to comfort Quinn when she needed it, even if she didn't know what had upset her, and that was the reason she could always see past Santana's cockiness, and her self-imposed attitude.

It was an unfair advantage in their relationship, Britt was aware of that, but she made a point of using her powers just for the greater good and never abuse them. There were some times though, like this evening, when she wished she wasn't able to see others' emotions, and especially Santana's

She stared at the ceiling of their bedroom, her hand on the cold spot besides her, where Santana was supposed to be but was, instead, empty. She wished she couldn't see through her girlfriend's lie and that she didn't feel her anguish and fear. She wished she didn't see the black sticky bubbles boiling inside Santana's thoughts, something she had never seen before, not quite like this at least. There were times when her girlfriend was worried sick about Quinn, and her thoughts had been as black as they were now, but they weren't boiling, they weren't so hot and scary, they weren't so sticky and... angry.

Britt sighed rolling onto her side staring pit the window. Was Santana already asleep? Should she get up and check on her? Maybe not. She had agreed on giving her time and checking on her would have felt like poking. No, right, she would have to wait because there were rules and because it was the right thing.

But waiting sucked!

* * *

**In the next chapter Rachel comes home and she finally speaks to Quinn. See you soon guys!**


	10. Apologies

**Finally the confrontation is here. This was one of the chapters I feared the most. Trying to resolve an argument so serious, knowing that each of them has her own reasons and that both of them cannot change who they are... ouch... hard task... I hope I did them (and this situation) justice although this is barely the first step in a journey of compromise. If Rachel and Quinn, in this story, want to have a future, they will have to meet each other half way...**

**Thanks a lot to Dee who took the time to "argue" with me over one word. But it was a very important one so... you are an amazing beta reader :))**

* * *

Quinn's eyes darted to the door when she heard it opening. She was sitting on the couch, hugging her own leg. The house was completely silent and every tiny noise seemed to echo within the empty rooms.

"Hey." Rachel walked in and sat down on the couch in front of her.

Quinn's stomach sank when she noticed how rested and calm she looked. It was something past 5pm and up until then she had had a hell of a day: she had fought with her best friend and lost herself in thoughts she didn't like to have. She was tired, angry, depressed, feeling guilty and regretful at the same time. And here sat, Rachel Berry, looking absolutely gorgeous, perfect hair and shiny eyes and... just look at her! A goddess in flash and bones. How could she even be like this? Why wasn't she wrecked like Quinn was, torn inside out from their first real fight?

"I didn't know if you were coming back last night. Or if, even."

Quinn's aloof statement was meant not to give away any of those feelings she was bottleing up inside. The worry of not knowing where Rachel was, the anger of being left in the uncertainty of it all and, of course, the topic of their fight itself. Then there came the regret for this whole situation they ended up in… this crossroad of their once beautiful relationship. And there also was the tiredness, dripping from her voice, as she fought to keep at bay the headache that came from crying herself to a restless sleep the night before, and the nightmares that came with that.

"I slept at Juliet's. I didn't... I wasn't..." Rachel worried her lower lip. So much for having rehearsed her come back home scene. "I just thought it was better that way."

Quinn's stomach clenched as her mind spun with horrible images of Rachel and Juliet, her previous sub and her lover. Long red hair entangling with Rachel's as they sank down on a bed, hands exploring their naked skin. Quinn looked away, closing her eyes.

"It was so kind of her to let me sleep on her couch, although I'd rather not repeat the experience. I haven't slept at all."

Quinn silently thanked Rachel for saying that out loud and stopping the images in her head. Did she do it on purpose? Did she know that mentioning Juliet's would trigger something in her, so deep inside, so new, like she never felt before for anybody else? Did she know that the thought of them together made her feel jealous?

"You seem fine though." Quinn tried to sound casual.

"That's because I'm an actress. I can fake being wellif I have to."

"And do you have to? Do you have to fake being well when you're with me?"

"I needed to for myself." Rachel stated calmly. "To make me believe I was ok and I could handle this conversation reasonably calm and with logic to the end."

Quinn shivered but she controlled herself breathing deeply and forced a mask upon herself, the one she usually had when she faced dominants and their claims.

"We have to talk Quinn. We're definitely doing something wrong here, and we have to fix this."

And there it was. Quinn could sense the threatening words in the air, the sentence waiting to be uttered: Rachel was going to make a point about submission and every shred of hope she had about them would be ripped to pieces.

"Fine." Her voice betrayed her, coming out more cracked than she would want. She kicked herself for showing such weakness and looked up determined to show Rachel, and herself, that she wasn't going out without a fight "But before we begin I have to warn you that if you're looking for an apology you will be disappointed: do whatever you want, I'm simply not going to say that I'm sorry for giving that asshole what he deserved during the party. Not now, not ever."

Rachel pinched her nose. Smooth start huh?

"Ok."

Quinn's eyebrows rose up in surprise. "Ok?"

"Well, you're not going to apologize and you obviously have your reasons. I'm not going to force you to do anything so... yes. Ok."

Quinn studied Rachel. She had an habit of being prepared for everything, but the brunette had a habit of her own, being able to read right through her and making all her precautions and preparation useless.

Did Rachel sense she was not going to give up on this? Did she give up? Was it a power game? A mind trick? Reverse psychology? What did jus happen?

"I'm sorry, though", Rachel continued "that you didn't look for me that night. Don't you know I would have done anything to keep him away from you if I had known he was getting under your skin?"

"I don't need protection, Rachel. I know how to take care of my own business."

"But that's the point, Quinn, you don't have to! That's what being in a relationship means: that you don't have to deal with this on your own! For once, just once, Quinn, I wish you would rely on me, trust me. I'd love to be there for you but it's a tough job trying to always _guess _what's on your mind. I wish I could trust you to tell me what's bothering you so we can deal with it together."

Somehow Rachel's words made sense.

Would have been different if Rachel was there, next to her while Raphael was upsetting her? Would have she stopped herself? Would Rachel have stopped her? Would have she taken up the fight with Raphael?

"I can't let someone else do the that instead me." Quinn started quietly. It was a matter of pride, yes, her pride, the one and only thing she swore to protect on the day she was sorted as submissive. "It's not how it works. I fight my own battles."

"So much for compromise, Quinn." Rachel sighed. That woman was a stubborn one, that was for sure. "I wouldn't dare to get in your way, but you're not stupid and you know that there are some things that you, as a slave, cannot do."

"Are you offering to do those things on my behalf?"

"I didn't think I needed to _offer _mdoing them myself. I thought it was implicit when I said that I loved you that I would always be there for you. At least that's what _I _implied."

Quinn's jaw moved back and forth nervously. The previous night she had contemplated what Rachel would say when she would get back home but the conversation wasn't going as she had imagined.

"I know I'm a slave, Rach. I know there are some things I'm not supposed to do, say, or even think, but that never stopped me before."

"And look how good that turned out: it got you in a lot of trouble."

"Which I don't regret." she pointed out. "I've always acted like a free woman, and I'm not gonna stop now."

"See? That's the point, I don't want to stop you, I just want to protect you from the consequences of your actions! Let me do the heavy lifting, let me kick the assholes for you." Rachel's voice was almost pleading now. "I don't want to see you suffer the consequences of your reckless actions, I really don't, so you can say I want it for myself, because that's what it really is. I can't stand the thought of you being punished or disciplined for something I could have prevented."

"You'd rather be you the one who disciplines me, right?"

It hurt Rachel, the cold tone in Quinn's voice and the stern look she gave her. She was scared to go there but, like Juliet told her, if they kept on avoiding the topic it would eventually eat them alive.

"I'm a domme, Q, you've always known that, and I'm not gonna lie to you: I've had subs, I've chained, tied, whipped, spanked, restrained them and I've enjoyed it. But I've never forced anyone and sure as hell I'm not gonna force you. Yesterday I..." she bit her lower lip "...I've lost it. I'm ashamed to say it, because I should know better, I know, but I was really angry and I let the anger take over me. I acted without thinking, without talking to you first and that was a huge, huge mistake. I apologize for that Quinn."

The blonde stared at Rachel. It was the first time ever that a dominant apologized to her and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to answer that.

"Thanks." She chose the simplest way.

"I hope you know that I don't want to hurt you. Never."

"I know."

"And I hope you know I love you."

Her lips curved upwards but the smile never reached Quinn's eyes. "I know."

"But I'm a domme."

"And I'm..." Quinn hesitated. Words do have the power to define who you are and she wasn't ready to hear her voice saying it out loud. "...yours." She murmured.

"Yes." Rachel scooted closer, tentatively taking Quinn's hands between her own. "For the world outside these walls you may be my slave, but for me you're also my lover, my girl, my beautiful soul mate." She sealed her words with a kiss to Quinn's knuckles. "Can you trust me Quinn? Can you believe that I would never take away your freedom? That I would never force you?"

"Yes." A whisper.

"And can you trust me to have your back when we are outside?"

Quinn sighed. She knew Rachel had the best intentions but there was a hidden question in Rachel's words, and it was the one bothering Quinn: _'Will submit to me fully and behave like a proper slave in the outside world?' _

To Quinn Rachel was both a blessing and a torture: she loved and trusted that wonderful woman who took care of her when she was sick and in pain, but she feared the domme and the way she seemed to read her mind. She couldn't reconcile the two images she had: Rachel, domme, domme, Rachel. They were two distincted, separate individuals.

"It's so hard to see who you are, sometimes" Quinn tried to explain, "There is this incredible Rachel that takes care of me with such sweetness and love that it overwhelms me; and then there is the domme. And I don't know what to expect from her."

"We're the same person, Quinn."

She could understand that but she just couldn't feel it. It was hard to force that knowledge through, to make her instincts, that constantly told her not to trust the dominants in her life, accept that.

"I'm not a slave Rachel."

"I didn't ask you that. I asked you if you could trust me. Can you believe that I would protect you to my last breath?"

"You're good at turning this around." Quinn smiled sarcastically.

"But that's all it is, in the end: you and me." Rachel tilted her head. "If we work we can make everything else work too." Rachel's eyes met hers hesitantly. There was something childishly hopeful in that look, the way she waited for Quinn's answer like her life depended on it.

Was she ready to at least give it a try? Could she submit, just for Rachel, just for the outside world, knowing that giving in to Rachel didn't mean _losing _herself but just _giving _herself to the person who cherished her the most?

"Yeah." Another whisper.

Rachel supressed a smile, a warm feeling spreadi inside her chest . She felt incredibly proud to be the one Quinn trusted this much.

"Thank you." she reached for her cheek to caress it. "I won't let you down, I promise."

Quinn cupped her face and pulled Rachel up to her. It meant to much to the blonde woman that a domme, that Rachel, asked for her trust, that all her anger and regrets melted away.

"I didn't want to make you look bad, I hadn't even thought about it. I didn't want to embarrass you or..." She felt it was her turn to come clean and try to explain her behavior because the previous night, just like the brunette, she let her anger and fear take over "this whole belonging thing... I had to answer only to myself before..."

"It's ok."

"No, it's not. Like I said I would do it again and again, but I've never meant for my actions to weight on you."

"But they do, Quinn. We're an item and everything you do reflects on me, as much as everything I do reflects on you."

"I'm sorry I didn't call for you."

"And I'm sorry I didn't think through what I was doing."

Quinn pulled her even closer until their lips brushed. Rachel waited to see if Quinn would be the one to make the first move. The blonde seemed to weight the decision, hoping Rachel would be the one to do that, as she almost did every time, but she also knew that, this time, Rachel wouldn't. It was another one of her mind games, the ones that drove Quinn crazy. She always made sure that, in the important moments, Quinn was the one to make a choice. It made her feel free and, at the same time, it weighted her with the burden of responsibility because whatever road she decided to take it was her decision and her decision only. She couldn't let anybody take the blame for what would have come of it.

And she decided to go for it, sucking in Rachel's upper lip.

* * *

**Side note. As of now I've lost chapters for about 20.000 words because I don't keep backup copies of my work when I use cloud services online (yeah, yeah, I know... I'm a trusty person, ok? I always think that one is enough when you have it on google drive... anyways). I've talked to the tech support and they hope they will be able to help me in a few days. Keep your fingers crossed (mine have been for a few days now...) because I really don't want to write all that stuff all over again! See you soon, I hope :)**


End file.
